No Hope Left
by The Lady Frost
Summary: Once a slave; now a servant. No proof. No promise of freedom. 96 floors up with an enemy. It might be the only thing that saves them both. But how can one broken mess...restore another? (Jill's return from captivity is another kind of nightmare. When no one believes you, how can you prove you're not the right hand of a monster? Complete.)
1. No Hope1

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One: **

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter One: Guilty Until Proven Innocent**

* * *

**-March, 13th - 2009 -**

* * *

The heavy panting was too close to her ear. She couldn't turn her head. She couldn't turn her mouth. She couldn't turn _away. _

The panting was deafening.

If she could just move a finger, just one, she could reach the knife on the table less than a foot to her right. Her eyes stared forward, at it, frozen there as the panting in her head was nearly cacophonous. _Lift your hand - grab the knife - end the pain._

But her hand wasn't her own.

And then? Then it _was. _

She grabbed it in her fist. She swung it up. There was a shout of horror. Someone started screaming. An alarm began to blare. But she was _free. _

She rolled to the floor splashed with blood. She ran for the door as the sound of the panting came from her own lungs. She just had to get there. She just had to getaway. She was free. She was ready.

She was still _alive_.

She hit the hallway in a skid. Her feet slapped painfully loud on the bare metal floor. Her lungs sobbed with every breath. The knife in her hand was dripping. The world flashed red and white and red and white.

But the elevator pinged as she struck the button. She just had to get out...get out..**._GET OUT. _**

The doors whooshed open. The face in the bright white light wasn't wearing glasses. She lifted the knife, she screamed, "MOVE! DO YOU HEAR ME!? MOVE!"

And the light flickered as the face in its explosive depths was familiar. Familiar..._family. _"...Jill..." He didn't touch her. He didn't have to. She felt the knife fall to the ground with a clatter.

She collapsed to her knees on the ground. The feet were rushing toward her. She looked up at him desperately and lifted her bloody hands, "Chris...don't...don't let them take me...please..."

He looked so broken. He put a hand down to her and Jill felt the stabbing in her back. The shocks hit her system and she started to convulse as Chris roared, "_NO! NO! _She's not a fucking threat! LEAVE HER ALONE!"

"She killed that orderly! RESTRAIN HER!"

She went to her side on the floor. The stun gun kept sending sparks into her body. Above her, the man told Chris, "Captain...she's not in there anymore. Whatever he did to her, she's a monster now."

"...no."

"I think you need to accept that Jill Valentine died in Africa."

She didn't. She hadn't. She was _right __here._

"Whatever you brought back isn't your partner anymore."

She was. _Don't give up on me._

The dark slid over her vision and took away Chris' desperate face.

* * *

**-June, 8th 2009-**

* * *

B.S.A.A. Holding Facility - Washington D.C.

* * *

She was handcuffed to a single link on a big table. They were reading her crimes back to her. Her "crimes" as if she were a terrorist being brought up on charges. Her heart shivered.

"Jill Valentine, formerly First Lieutenant Jill Valentine of the B.S.A.A. Field Operations Division, you are here today to answer for your actions against the state. You are being tried under the Patriot Act, guaranteeing that you revoke your American Citizenship and all rights held within if these charges heretofore mentioned are upheld in a court of law. On the night of Mar-"

Jill laughed, harshly, "The Patriot Act!? I'm not a fucking terrorist."

The faces around the table were silent, dark, and judging. She looked for one friendly one in the bunch. None. No one. Was she alone? She'd spent months in isolation with barely a face but her own.

What was this now? Charges? Crimes? She'd had no CONTROL.

They started listing the things she'd done that they knew of under Wesker. They rattled them at her like it was nothing - as if they hadn't been trapped in her body forced into action by a madman -like they hadn't woken in the night and tried like hell to escape him. They didn't care.

And they didn't _believe. _

She tried again, "You're not listening. Listen to me - I was aware, but I wasn't able to control myself. He pumped me full of that compound, that fucking P-30. Test it, you'll see what I mean. He meant for it to make me a slave."

And the voice answered, "There were no samples left. What there was, was eradicated along with the plane that went down in the volcano. A convenient end for a madman, wouldn't you say, Ms. Valentine? A curious thing to know you directed it there."

Wait.

WAIT.

What were they implying?

"Hold on...I did that because Uroboros is sensitive to _FIRE_. I knew Chris had no chance _without_ limiting Wesker's conversion. I had to. He knows that. Bring him in. He knew what I was doing."

"We've discussed this all with _Captain_ Redfield. His oral report is on file. We're aware of his version of events."

His version.

Whose version were they using here?

Captain Redfield - they wanted her to know he was no longer her partner. He was her _superior._

"Agent Alomar was unclear on her side. She made references to concern over your loyalty. She seemed unconvinced of your intentions. She suggested that if you knew about the fire limiting Wesker, why you simply didn't burn him at your own behest when not under the control of the drug."

Sheva Alomar.

Apparently, she didn't trust Jill either.

Not that Jill could blame her. Honestly, if someone had crashed her plane into a volcano, she'd have been unlikely to trust them again either. Honestly, it sounded retarded to hear it in her own ears. A volcano? If they only knew what she'd gone through to discover its whereabouts to begin with.

"I wasn't in collaboration with Albert Wesker."

There. Did they need her to say it aloud?

The voice returned, "Ms. Valentine, you were his accomplice for three years. You never escaped. There was no evidence in the compound of his that we raided that you'd ever even tried. You were found through leaked information that brought the BSAA to Kijuju to hunt down Ricardo Irving. The data was buried for years. Then? One day it just pops up. Poof. Like someone had planted it."

They thought she'd come back to spy for Wesker. They thought she was a sleeper agent.

They thought she was a bad guy.

Terrified of what that meant, Jill tried once more, "I was his captive! I was his slave! I was in a tank for half the time and in his control the other! I couldn't escape! I couldn't even take a shit without his command!"

There was murmuring around her. It went on until the voice said, "We are divided on our ability to rule one way or the other in this matter, Ms. Valentine. Until a ruling can be made, Captain Redfield has petitioned us for clemency."

Clemency?

Like she was on death row here?

Their faces said she was indeed.

The doors to the chamber opened and spilled light in. The face of the man speaking was familiar. Who was it? He spoke again into the quiet, "It would appear you have a guardian angel on your side, after all. The committee was inclined to place you in confinement at Rikers Island until your arraignment, but the Director of the DSO has convinced us to allow you to be placed under house arrest with a guardian barring completion of time in service."

Time in service?

Aloud, she wondered, "What the hell does that even mean?"

"Ms. Valentine - you are no longer a lieutenant in the BSAA. You are now the property of the United States Government. From this moment on, you will operate at the behest of your guardian in completing a required amount of service to your nation to atone for your crimes against her. If you refuse, you will be placed before the Supreme Court and tried with treason."

Treason.

Treason because she'd gone out a window to take down a madman and save her partner's life. Treason - for doing her _goddamn_ job.

"The punishable offense for treason is death by lethal injection."

Jill felt her guts turn cold with lead. "I don't understand what you're saying here. Who requested I be detained with a guardian?"

"Captain Redfield. He's the only reason you're not on death row at the moment, Ms. Valentine. I would be grateful."

Grateful. He'd made her a ward of the state. She'd been one once, as a girl, she'd grown up in foster homes at the behest of her government. It was like being a child again and knowing you had no control. She'd spent the last three years without any control of herself. It would seem she was to be that way again. Her life - always in the hands of someone else. She was never, it seemed, destined to be free.

"You will be watched, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. You will have no privacy, no leniency, and no rights. The Patriot Act reduces your wants and needs to negligible, Ms. Valentine, until further stated ...you are the property of the Department of Security Operations."

Her mouth felt like she'd been licking sand it was so dry, "What fucking idiot agreed to be my guardian?"

Out of the shadows, she got her answer.

She couldn't make out a single face of the assholes in the dark condemning her...but she could clearly see the face of Leon Kennedy.

Aloud, she cursed, "Oh, _fuck_ you."

And all he did was laugh, "You have to buy me dinner first."

She _hated _him.

* * *

The car hummed like a jungle cat. Sleek, purring, and hugging turns with a predator's deadly grace. Cuffed to the dashboard, Jill watched the scenery race by as they left the city behind.

She didn't know where he was going. At this point, it didn't even matter. It could be the seventh rung of Hell and it would be the same. She said nothing as he handled the roads with a master's precision.

She'd heard somewhere he was a shitty driver. You couldn't prove it by the way he handled the Jaguar they were in.

Kennedy. She was his captive now it seemed. Like a prize that no one wanted, she was forced into his custody to be babysat until she'd proved herself. First a slave, now a prisoner. Her eyes watched the sun tickle down the horizon to head toward evening.

The collar at her throat beeped once to signal it was active. Like a fucking dog. As he'd secured it around her, Kennedy had said, "It's got a timer on it, Jill. If you go too far for too long, it will put you down."

Her brows had shot up, "Kill me?"

She saw the look on his face. The look that wanted to get smart with her about it, but he'd replied, "No. It will incapacitate you until you can be collected."

Collected.

Like a sample.

When he'd shifted the tail of her hair off her nape to snap it shut, she'd spat, "Enjoying yourself?"

Honestly, he couldn't blame her for the ire. She'd been naked. It was the way it was done in holding like that. She was stripped down, hosed off, thoroughly inspected by guards, and left naked during the placement of her containment device.

Her time with Wesker had left her in supreme physical condition. She looked like she could snap your neck without breaking a sweat. He'd arched a brow at her, "Sure. I love playing babysitter to a pissed off potential traitor."

She'd cocked her head, "No? I heard groping traitors was a favorite past time of yours."

Interesting. She knew about Ada. He'd felt his mouth twitch. "Not lately." As he'd turned away, the female guards stepped up to dress her again. She was cuffed and handed to him like a dog on a leash.

No one in their right mind would have agreed to what he was doing, but him. Of course, no one said he was in his right mind. Chris had asked. He'd said yes. The entire conversation was better left for another day...but it was done.

Karma would surely reward him for his good deed.

Surely.

The Jaguar rolled into the underground parking lot he guided it toward. He was curious about Jill's hyper-awareness. She was mapping in her head. He knew it, he did it himself, she was remembering everything.

Most likely, it was so she would know how to escape. Why? To reunite with her people?

He wasn't sure what he thought about her potentially playing to the other side. He understood the caution. She'd told a pretty tall tale so far about her captivity. First to survive the fall and not be crippled was impossible. It just was.

According to her report, she'd been in cryostasis recovering from massive internal injuries. During that time, Wesker discovered she'd had latent evidence of the T-Virus dormant in her body from her infection via the Nemesis in Raccoon City. The fall had killed her, officially, and the T-Virus wasn't wiped out by the prototype vaccine she'd received - it had just gone to sleep. It activated to save her life.

By trying to save Chris Redfield and sacrificing herself, she'd handed Albert Wesker the perfect weapon - the rare one percent of the population that was immune to the Tyrant Virus. It was the last piece he'd needed to finish his prototype for Uroboros. Jill was responsible for its final form. She was the key to its creation.

After its creation, why keep her alive?

He'd had what he wanted from her. Why spare her life?

But he had. He'd made her his handmaiden. He'd outfitted her with a device that Redfield had removed in the field and was never recovered. Without the device, they couldn't verify it had been used to control her via the alleged P-30 she spoke about.

The speculation from Redfield was that Wesker had kept her alive to torment him and revenge himself on her. It made sense, in a perverse way, but it was also vaguely narcissistic to assume the global aspirations of a megalomaniac had anything to do with a single former member of his failed S.T.A.R.S. unit.

It was more likely Jill Valentine had always been his disciple. A follower of Wesker to the point of being a sleeper agent when he knew his plan to use Uroboros might fail. He'd sent her back with Redfield to infiltrate the government and destroy it from the inside.

That was the thought here.

Leon wasn't sure what _he_ thought. He was never inclined to agree with the majority because so often they were wrong with their assumptions.

He only knew that keeping her under constant surveillance was the only way to make sure she was just another victim of a horrible master of destruction. If she was innocent, she'd benefit from a slow reintroduction into society. Her adjustment to life outside had been traumatic. She'd responded like victim suffering from massive PTSD, but that happened with Stockholm Syndrome as well. She was possibly mourning the death of her master.

In this case, Leon was the best case. He had no family. He had no friends. He had no live in lovers or ties to the community. He was all work and no play. He was the Director of the newly formed bioterror response unit within the DSO. That meant tons of paperwork and prep work before missions, so he was often out of the field while he built the unit from the ground up.

If Jill was innocent, she'd make a helluva an addition to that unit. What was clear? She was done with the BSAA. She was no longer trusted in the organization. She'd been removed from duty, disavowed from the field, and taken out of play as an asset. Her only hope now was to find a place in the DSO with Leon's recommendation and that came with proving herself in his custody.

Sadly, it wasn't going to be a comfortable fit for either of them.

Valentine was an asshole.

There was no getting around it.

She'd taunted him, nagged at him, needled and poked at him to try to get him to snap before they'd left the facility. She'd called him names, suggested he'd slept his way to the top based on his looks, and remarked about his drinking. She'd read his file, clearly, so she knew what buttons were sharp and raw on him.

Now, she muttered, "Don't wreck, hotshot, because I promise you I won't pull you from the fire."

He laughed and steered the car into a private enclosed parking garage. A metal door lowered to seal them in as he killed the engine and stepped out. Two guards were waiting to help escort her to the elevator that would take her to his floor.

She said nothing again until he let her into his apartment. The whole top floor was his. Having a father who was a senator and a job at the right hand of the most powerful man in the world paid well. The old man was a waste of space as a parent, but he'd pulled the right strings to get Leon into a place to make a difference. It was the only thing he'd ever be grateful for.

Jill was quiet as she stood in the wide-open beauty of his massive penthouse apartment. He walked through it like a lord of the manor. He didn't even seem to stop and care about the amazing gift that was each corner. She'd never understood the kind of money and power that came with the blase acceptance of massive wealth.

His apartment was floor to ceiling windows on one side that opened to an incredible balcony. The view was the twilight magnificence of the New York skyline. The Empire State Building glistened like a Christmas tree. She watched a helicopter circle and land on a rooftop. She watched clouds filter over the ball of blazing beauty that was the sun starting to turn pink and red in the swirling sky.

Without thinking, she exhaled a heavy breath and remarked, "...fucking incredible."

Leon paused, brows arched, and glanced at the view. He couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to notice it. He looked at it now as someone who might have been underground in a cement cell for years. He glanced at her face and the push of purplish light over her delicate features.

If she was acting awed and relieved, she was doing a damn fine job.

Softly, he returned, "Yeah. It's what they call a million-dollar view."

"Take it for granted, do ya?"

Surprised, he realized he did. He had, for quite some time. He started to say something and she added, "Nevermind. It's not like I care."

Shaking her head, clearing her throat, Jill jingled her cuffs as she turned away from it and crossed through the huge space toward the open door beside a curling set of stairs. The place was done in shiny mahogany and white. It was classy and fancy and smelled like good taste and money. She felt dirty just walking through it.

She paused beside the massive Schiller Berlin grand piano poised prettily and surrounded by those huge windows on three sides. The fourth side traveled a wide-open hallway filled floor to ceiling with books. He was a man who enjoyed music and literature. She'd heard somewhere he was a genius. It wasn't a surprise to find his was a mind that required constant stimulation.

Her cuffed hands touched the soft keys on the piano. The music tinkled prettily. He'd read in her file she was musically inclined. It was, it would appear, something they had in common after all.

To his surprise, she spoke again, "Why not a Steinway?"

He arched his brows as he set aside the mail he'd been going through. "What?"

"You're a guy with thousand dollar shoes. Why not a Steinway piano? That's what the fancy pants fucks usually own."

He tilted his head at her, "Do they?"

"Yeah." She curled her lip at him, "This is a Schiller. It's old. It's scuffed but well-loved. Why not upgrade?"

And he answered, without preamble, "Because new doesn't always mean better. You oughta know that better than anyone."

Jill shrugged and turned to face him. She lifted her cuffed hands. "What's the deal? You gonna lead me around like this forever?"

He shifted toward her. She studied him as he moved. The navy vest he wore complimented the powder blue tie and crisp white shirt. He was missing the jacket for the suit. His hair was shaggy and attractive. It was something he was known for, that face of his.

It was graced with enough scruff to make the perfect cheekbones masculine instead of pretty.

He wasn't her type. He never had been. She didn't like girly faced pretty boys. She liked them even less when they were her babysitter.

He put his hand out and waited. Jill sighed and lifted her cuffs toward him. He waited until she placed them in his open palm. Neither said anything as he turned the key in the cuffs and released her hands.

The moment he did, he warned her, "If you try to run, I will bring you back. If you do this, Jill, and behave - you'll get your freedom. How fair you play, is how fair I do."

She studied him with intelligence that looked good on her. It was still odd to see her with the ice blonde hair and nearly white blue eyes. He hadn't recognized her when Redfield had invited him into the facility to study her in recovery.

The jumpsuit she wore was beige and boring, but the scars peeking out of the zipper weren't. They were the evidence of the device she'd worn. It was still unclear if she'd worn it by choice to enhance her abilities.

Jill surprised him by appealing to his common sense, "Kennedy, I'm not a threat. I was, I was for a long time because he made sure I wasn't able to stop myself. I'm not going to hurt anyone. Hell, I don't even want to go back into the field. I swear to god, I just want to be left alone. Let me go, tell them I beat the fuck out of you and escaped. I don't care, but let me go."

He scanned her face and finally answered, "You can have the bedroom because I'm a gentleman. The door stays open, always. The penthouse is wired with cameras in every room but the shitter. When you bathe, the door stays open. When you shit, the door stays open. Unless you're sleeping, you stay with me. If I even think you're attempting to make contact with anyone, at any time, I will immediately revoke your parole and put you back in the facility to rot. You don't get to spend three years as the right hand of a monster and get away with a story about mind control, Jill, you know better than that."

The softness on her abated. She was back to staring at him like he was a bastard. He was, but it was for a good cause.

To his surprise, she snatched his tie and jerked him forward. He let her, curious about her response. She spat at him, "When you're sleeping, do it with one eye open. The things I learned..it's not something you forget just because you're free. You won't be so fucking pretty when I'm done with you."

His brow arched, "You have no idea what I'm capable of, Jill. Don't fool yourself. You wanna be enemies, that's fine with me, but I'm not just a pretty face."

"Funny thing, Kennedy, I was about to say the same thing."

She let go of his tie and turned away. "I'm gonna take a shower. Have a blast watching me, you fucking peeping tom."

"Please. With this face, you think I have trouble getting a woman? I don't need to creep on girls in the shower."

She rolled her eyes as she stepped into the bathroom and reached for the zipper on her jumpsuit.

"Leave the door open, Jill."

"I fucking heard you the first time...and stop calling me, Jill. We're not friends. We never were. Right now? We're closer to enemies."

"...only if you make it that way, darlin. Your choice."

She dropped the jumpsuit and stepped into the glass shower. He picked up his mail and turned into the small kitchen to see about dinner. He'd just lit up a cigarette and took a long drag when he saw a flicker of movement in the glass of the wall beside him.

He turned and got an arm up, but it didn't stop him from getting the fire extinguisher to the side of the face. He should have known she'd try to escape first thing. The hit threw him into the sink and clattered dishes as he nearly went down.

The partial block of his arm kept him from being knocked out completely, but he was still dizzy as he stuck a foot out and tripped her when she turned to run. She stumbled, picked up a chair from the dinette and turned, launching it at him. He caught it, threw it aside, and rushed her.

Jill wasn't sure what she thought would happen, in truth. She'd panicked the second she realized she was going to be at the mercy of a man, naked, with no way to escape. What did she think happened if she managed to get away from him?

To his surprise, she tossed her legs to the side and vaulted over the sofa...in a towel. She was in a towel and running. It might have been comic if it wasn't so ridiculous. Leon cut right around the sofa and Jill reached the door.

She grabbed for the knob, found it locked, and spun back as he cornered her.

He lifted his hands and soothed, "Easy. Easy. Even if you get out, there's no way you'll get to the ground level. The security in this building is top notch, Jill. It's why I chose it. You have to be cleared to get on the elevator to even attempt to run."

Jill, breathing harshly, lifted the razor in her hand at him. "Stay back, do you hear me? I will cut you."

He arched a brow, "With a dull razor?"

Jill narrowed her eyes at him, "How brave are you? Get close and find out."

Leon shrugged...and surprised her. He grabbed for her and got a razor across the palm for it, but it didn't stop him. He grabbed her anyway. He caught her wrist, twisted, and dragged her toward him. She shouted, threw her foot down, and...lost it.

It was more than surprising, it was shocking. She panicked like nothing he'd ever seen the moment he caught her against his front with her back to him. She screamed and struggled, roaring like a wild lion. He actually let go of her in utter surprise as she scrambled away and heaved out breaths like she had run a mile. She backed up toward the bathroom with the bloody razor, gasping, "Don't. Don't. Don't _ever_ touch me! Don't."

Hands lifted, he looked at her like she'd grown an ugly second head. "Ok. Alright. Ease down. I won't touch you. Put the razor down and kick it over to me."

"...I need to shave my legs."

Leon shook his head, "Not anymore you don't. You want them shaved, you have to let me do it. Your shaving privileges just got revoked." He lifted his bloody palm, "This is your official notice."

What the hell had happened to her to cause that kind of reaction? It was startling.

Jill backed into the bathroom, panting. She dropped the razor and kicked it across the floor. "I can't stay here. I can't. Do you understand that? I'm going to get away. You should accept that now."

"Ok." He stared at her, hard, "You won't get passed me, Jill. You just won't. _You_ need to accept _that_."

Jill backed into the bathroom. She got into the shower still the towel and stepped under the spray. He advised her, "I'm gonna come in there and treat my hand. Alright?"

Huddled in the heavy steam, she whispered, "If you even attempt to open this door, I'll break your wrist."

"I'm not interested in spying on you, Jill. When are you gonna get that?"

To his surprise, she told him, "Your fucking job is to spy on me, Kennedy. So stop lying."

He stepped into the beautiful bathroom and moved toward the sink. One side was the shower, one side the "water closet" which was a glass enclosure containing a bidet and a toilet. The sink and the tub were left in the middle graced by the overlooking eyes of Manhatten beyond the windows. It was a helluva thing to lie in that enormous tub and watch the world pass you by 96 floors up.

After a moment of binding his palm and cleaning it, he heard the towel plop wetly to the floor of the shower. To his continued surprise, she spoke again, "Why would you agree to this? Don't you understand what you're getting into?"

Under his breath, he muttered, "More now than I did an hour ago."

And she added, "I'm gonna drive you crazy until you agree to my release."

He had no doubt. Sadly for them both, she was officially his problem. He was stuck 96 floors above the rest of the world with a crazy woman. Hell hath no fury was taking on new meaning.

To his reflection in the steamy glass, he murmured, "...fuck." And he so, so, so was.


	2. No Hope2

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One: **

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Interior. Exterior. Extraneous.**

* * *

**-June, 10th - 2009 -**

* * *

He woke up to the blaring alarm of his apartment. Apparently, she'd circumvented his security on his damn door. How? It was thumb print and voice I.D. locked. Blinking his bleary eyes, he glanced at the table.

She'd taken his glass of scotch and scored his fingerprint easily enough. She'd recorded him speaking or listened to a lecture from Quantico and pieced together the right phrases for the door. Clever bitch.

He'd spent two days trying to keep her from fleeing. After she'd gone to bed, he thought - why not have a drink? But that was his trigger, of course, and a two drinks became ten. Before he knew it, he was passed out on the coffee table like the drunken fool he was known for.

The hangover throbbed in his left temple. Leon groaned and rose to half sitting on his couch. He glanced at his watch as the alarms squealed before he spoke, "Cortana - disengage alarms."

The pretty face of Cortana from Halo popped up on the pad beside his door, smiling. "Of course, Mr. Kennedy. Shall I alert the authorities?"

"Please. And locate the fugitive."

"Certainly."

The silence was deafening with the alarm disengaged.

He rubbed a hand over his face and rose from the couch before she popped back on screen. "The fugitive is currently in custody. She was secured in the lobby trying to leave the premises."

Bitch. She'd gotten all the way down stairs. Which meant she'd figured out how to man the elevator.

He reached down for his wallet in the back of his pants and found it empty. She'd snatched that, secured his card, and beat a hasty retreat. Sadly, there was no way for her to remove her collar. She could try all she wanted, that was controlled off site by a different captor.

She'd robbed him, ran from him, out smarted him and nearly gotten away.

Two days. He'd been her jailor for 48 hours..he was ready to give her back. He'd rather serve tea and biscuits to Hitler in the Hell than spend another second with her.

The elevator pinged and two agents brought her back toward the apartment. One of them was sporting a fat lip. The other had a shock rod pointed at her face as they walked. Clearly, she'd not come quietly.

When she saw him, she spat, "Idiot. Genius, my _ass."_

She had him there. Jack Daniels was his greatest weakness. He'd over indulged and paid the price for it.

One of the agents asked, "Sir, should we leave her secured?"

She was cuffed at her hands and feet. Considering it, Leon answered, "Yeah. Toss her on the bed in the other room."

"Yes, sir."

Jill grunted and shouted as they picked her up like a sack of flour. "Asshole! You think you can just throw me around!?"

She made an oomph sound as they dumped her on the bed and came back out to join him. The girl agent was chewing her lip while they gave him a report of the incident. After a handful of seconds, he finally asked her, "What? What is it?"

"...sir...it's just-I think you should...never mind, sir. Never mind."

Ugh. Women.

He scrubbed a hand over his tired face and waved them away. "Change the code on the elevator to ocular scans only."

"Yes, sir."

No doubt she'd cut his fucking eye out anyway, but at least he'd wake up for that torture.

From the bedroom, Jill shouted, "Please! LET ME GO!"

"Shut up." He grumbled it as he turned toward the bathroom to take a piss. He was just finishing and moving to wash his hands when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink.

"You're gonna get tired of fighting me, Kennedy! MARK MY WORDS!"

He wasn't listening anymore. He'd stopped listening...because she hadn't taken his eye out. Nope. She'd done worse somehow. She'd chopped off his **_fucking hair. _**

The scissors lying on the floor by the couch made sense now. She'd picked them up, robbed him, and ruined him. She'd cut huge chunks from his trademark lockes. He looked ridiculous. No wonder that female agent had been trying to stop her laughter.

He looked like a toddler had taken a whack at his iconic style and left a disaster behind.

Without preamble, he shouted back at her, "You _cunt!" _

And she laughed triumphantly, "You kiss your spy with that mouth!? Whose pretty now, hotshot!?"

Leon shifted into the living room. He scooped up the scissors off the floor and stomped toward the bedroom. She was sitting up on the bed grinning. "What's wrong? Afraid you're just generic without that signature do of yours?"

Without a word, he grabbed her shoulder and shoved her face down on the bed. She immediately started panicking, screaming, "What!? What now!? Rape!? You fucking pig! You goddamn coward! You men and your ra-"

The snap of the blades had her freezing. He wasn't touching her. Nope. He was cutting her.

Her hair.

He grabbed her ponytail first and lopped it off right above the band. She shouted in rage, "Stop it! You bastard!"

"Why? Afraid you won't be so pretty without it?"

The scissors went next for her hair below the ears. She shrieked as he severed it, in uneven chunks. "I will _kill _you!"

"Yeah? I'd love to see you try when I'm not sleeping, you _coward."_

When he'd snapped off her hair until it was a horrid uneven mess around her chin and shoulders, he shoved her back on the bed. "You're lucky I don't shave your fucking head bald."

She grinned at him. "Yeah? We could match. You can't salvage that nightmare, handsome. What now?"

His lip sneered up, "I was gonna revoke your agreement and let you rot in jail."

Her eyes flickered with fear. "Do it! Idiot! I dare you!"

"Yeah? You look afraid to me, sweetheart. We both know you don't want to go back into a hole." He pointed the scissors at her, "The next time you run, I'll shave your head _and _your eyebrows."

He turned out of the bedroom while she spit at him, "I'll still look better than you, ASSHOLE!"

She wasn't wrong. He stood in front of the mirror staring at the horror of it. She'd left him nearly bald on one side and clumpy on the other. With a shiver of regret, he picked up the clippers and the humming filled the bathroom.

It was the first time in twenty years his face wasn't obscured by his hair. He had the strangest urge to weep.

He didn't let Jill out of the bedroom for nearly six hours.

After awhile, she started to feel a little bad. Honestly, he'd tried being nice to her. He'd tried talking to her, when that failed, he tried leaving her alone. He wasn't pushy or rude. He wasn't even a pain in the ass.

The rage - it came in waves. She couldn't seem to control it. The stupid shrink had called it "Manic Episodes". Apparently, it wasn't uncommon with PTSD. She was suffering from trauma, they said, so violent mood swings weren't unheard of.

She hadn't killed Kennedy - she'd just killed his hair. So she could control it. When she wanted to, she could control it.

After awhile, she realized he wasn't going to uncuff her. She shifted on the bed, inhaling sharply. Maybe she'd gone a little overboard cutting his hair. Maybe she'd been looking to hurt him like he was hurting her.

He wasn't hurting her at all, but he was holding her against her will and that couldn't be born. She needed freedom. She wanted to run away and stop being treated like the enemy. She wasn't! She was a victim, but no one believed her.

They treated her like she was a villain.

When Kennedy came in to get her, she spat, "You look like shit."

He didn't. Without all the hair, you got a nice look at the face. It was a great face. He'd left enough hair on top to be flattering. He had cute little ears. Cutting his hair wasn't a bad thing after all. He actually looked good.

Damn him.

He said nothing. He tossed her over his shoulder while she grunted. He carried her into the kitchen and dumped her in a chair and slapped a plate of chicken nuggets down and macaroni and cheese on the table before her.

Brows arched, Jill wondered, "What do you expect me to do?"

"What else? Drop your face and dig in."

Surely, he was kidding. "...uncuff me."

"No. Find a way to eat without hands, princess. I'm sure you'll manage."

He walked out of the kitchen as she called, "Come on! Seriously!? It's just _hair!"_

When he didn't come back, she muttered a curse and dipped her face down like she was bobbing for chicken nuggets. She was officially eating like an animal. She _hated _Leon Kennedy.

* * *

After dinner, she went into the bathroom and tried to figure out how to use the commode without hands. She finally called, "Come on! Let me loose so I can take a piss!"

He joined her in the bathroom, grabbed her yoga pants she was wearing and jerked them to her feet. Blinking at him in horror, Leon simply rose and left her alone in the bathroom.

Surely he was kidding here.

He wasn't.

She sat down to pee and cursed him in three languages.

Since there was no chance of wiping without hands and she'd be _damned _if she let him do it, she used the bidet to clean off when she was done. She left her pants around her ankles by the cuffs there and waddled with her fanny out back to her bedroom. He didn't even bother to look up from the paper he was reading.

On the bed, Jill wiggled and flopped and grabbed the pants in an attempt to pull them up.

After a few grunts and a curse, he simply came into the bedroom. She shouted, "Get out!"

But he didn't. He rolled her to her face, reached under her, and pulled her pants up. Without a word, he left again.

Face down on the mattress, Jill sighed.

Admittedly, his silence was worse than his shitty dialogue. After a handful of minutes, she waddled out to the living room. He was barefoot and sitting length wise on the couch reading the paper.

The cuffs clinked on the floor as she walked around to look at him. "...you gonna let me go?"

He said nothing.

She tried again, "...maybe I was out of line with the hair...but in fairness, you did get me back, right? So we're even."

Again, nothing.

"I did you a favor anyway. This looks more like an agent and less like a model."

He glanced up from the paper and gave her a look that should have turned her to ashes. Yikes. He was fucking angrier than a hornet.

She really, really, really wanted to get him riled up. So she said, "You're what? Thirty? Aren't you too old for hair like that anyway? You look like a creeper trying to hang onto your youth."

Silence.

Taking a deep breath, Jill wheedled, "Come on...take cuffs off. I'll be a good girl, I promise."

Nothing.

"Really? Nothing?"

He lifted his left hand and flipped her the middle finger.

Jill pursed her lips, "Real mature. Whose the baby now? Listen, I'm just offering you some advice here. I'm older than you, so I know what I'm talking about."

Leon finally looked up from the paper and said, "No, you're not."

She blinked, "I am. I was born in 74. I'm older."

"...the cryostasis retarded the aging process. The time you spent in there kept you suspended. They suspect you're aging at a reduced rate. With the difference and the retardation...you're actually younger than me."

He was full of shit. Surely.

His face said he wasn't. Jill snorted, "Whatever. Come on - I haven't watched t.v. in years. Have mercy...please?"

Leon went back to the paper. He looked over the tops of his little gold glasses at her. She grinned happily and batted her lashes.

He rolled his eyes and went back to his paper.

She waited, tapping her cuffed foot. He blew out a heavy breath and looked up at her. She made a sad face.

So he invited, "Beg."

"...what?"

"Beg my forgiveness...and you can watch the television."

She HATED him, but she muttered, "...pretty please with sugar on top."

He pursed her lips.

With a huff, she added, "I'm big nasty bitch who cut off all your perfect hair. Have mercy on my poor soul."

She sounded about as apologetic as a robot. He gave her a long suffering look and finally snorted.

After a handful of moments, he shifted his feet a little so she could sit down. Without looking at her, he asked, "What's your poison?"

Jill sighed and tried to get comfortable, "...I don't even know what's on anymore. The news I guess."

He flipped that on and went back to his paper. He stuck his legs over her lap to pin her there. Her lips curled but she said nothing. She sat there on the couch still cuffed and sighed.

When he nodded off, she didn't even try to run. She was tempted to go after the key to her cuffs, but he might send her back to her room. Instead, she carefully reached for the remote in his lap.

When he made a sound like a snore, she plucked it up and changed the station to late night reruns of _Saved by the Bell_. The light from the t.v. flickered over his face as the show played. His shirt had bunched a little at his belly. She could see the suggestion of scars above his left hip.

She'd heard he'd nearly been gutted versus lickers a few months before she'd been found. Careful to not wake him, she lifted the shirt a little more to see the damage. It was ugly. They streaked in a jerking zigzag over his side and lower belly.

She tried to hiss in sympathy and glanced at his face. He was lucky he had use of the damn leg based on the damage. What did they call him- the golden boy? He had the luck of some kind of demons to survive like he did, that was for sure.

Why had he agreed to her captivity? It seemed stupid and masochistic. He had no ties to her. Did he have them to Chris? She didn't recall them being friends.

Why help her?

She settled back on the couch with his legs across her and couldn't figure him out. She fell asleep to the comfort of his snoring and the droning of the gang from Bayside up to their typical high school hi-jinks.

Like it or not - she found it easier somehow to sleep when she wasn't alone. Even if her company was a total prick.

* * *

**June 17th, 2009**

* * *

"Get in."

"No."

"I mean it, Jill. Get in the fucking shower."

"No."

"You fucking reek. I won't smell you anymore. If you don't get in there, I swear on my left ass cheek I will make you."

She gave him a filthy look. "Not the right one? ...You wouldn't dare."

She tried to duck left and run, but it was hard to do that in cuffs. He'd cuffed her hands in front of her every morning since her first attempt to flee. He caught her now around the waist and she shouted in rage.

"Don't do it, Kennedy! I swear to your right ass cheek!"

He laughed. Damn her.

He walked right into the shower anyway and said, "Spray on one hundred and one degrees."

In horror, she gasped, "Don't you da-"

And the heat smacked her right in the face. She squealed and struggled as he stood there with her on his shoulder and let the water beat on them both. When she shrieked, she got a mouth full of water. After a moment, she finally shouted, "Ok! _OK! _Put me the fuck down!"

He sat her on her feet and they stood facing each other in the heavy spray. She lifted her hands, "Can you uncuff me so I can bathe?"

He gave her a narrow look and she sighed, "I promise not to run."

Leon uncuffed her and stepped out of the shower. After a moment, she saw him perch on the tub with his arms crossed over his chest to watch her. No. Not watch; _guard. _He was standing there guarding her.

He didn't peep at her once as she washed.

It had been a long time since a man hadn't thought she was property to be oogled.

As she washed, Jill battled back the interesting feeling of taking it easy on him. No way. The second she let her guard down, he'd molest her. She was sure of it. They were all that way.

She watched him like a hawk while she showered.

Him?

He didn't glance at her once. Since she'd heard once he hit on anything with tits, she found it almost endearing that he didn't even make a single remark about her body. Also, strangely enough, she was vaguely insulted. Seemingly, this guy would fuck a slick hole in the wall.

He didn't see her as worth his time, apparently.

Jill scoffed and turned away, "...I thought you liked watching spies shower."

His voice carried, "You admitting you're a spy?"

"No! But you think I am."

He said nothing.

She glanced over her should. He was perched there with his head back and his eyes closed. He couldn't care less about her naked ass. The little quiver of insult irritated her.

Turns out - under the broken armor and inability to function...she was still a woman after all.

* * *

Jill emerged out of the shower quietly and followed him to the bedroom. He stood with his back to the door while she dressed.

To distract him, she rambled on, "Must be something to be the best anybody's seen in a decade huh? Even before I went missing, you were on an upward climb. How's it feel being at the top?"

She quietly picked up the pillow off the bed and inched toward him as he surprised her by replying, "...lonely."

Jill paused, "...really? Why not change that?"

She halted her plan to smother him out of sheer curiosity as he told her, "Why? You think I want to tie a woman into this mess with me? Hell no. This way, I'm not leaving anybody behind when I die."

Jill felt a little pang of sympathy. She wasn't a monster, she could feel sorry for the lonely guy at the top and still disable him. "You should put that pretty face to work and find yourself a nice girl to bury yourself between the thighs of."

He snorted. "Why? Sex works for about eight seconds, then it's right back to being lonely."

"Eight seconds huh? That's pretty sad for you, Kennedy. Maybe you should work on your endurance unless..." She put her mouth by his ear and surprised him with a whisper, "It's more like a rodeo ride...the wildest eight seconds of your life."

He turned his head, amused by her weird flirting, and she stuffed the pillow against his face. Surprised, he let her manhandled him backward. His back struck the door jamb as he battled her for the pillow and she drove her knee right up into his balls.

The world flashed white and red and Jill smacked him twice in the side of the head with the pillow to sling him to the floor. Before he could stop her, she snapped one cuff around his wrist and one around the leg of the bed.

Annoyed, he warned, "Don't do it, Jill. I mean it."

She ran for it anyway.

As she grabbed for the door handle, Cortana informed her, "I'm sorry. You're not authorized to leave the premises."

Jill snapped, "Fuck off, bitch. Open the damn door."

"Being rude won't change a thing, fugitive. Please return to your containment area before the authorities are alerted."

Jill picked up the potted plant beside the door, prepared to smash in that smiling A.I. face, and the sound of the leg of the bed cracking had her panicking. FUCK he was strong. She hated that he was strong.

As he emerged with the cuff dangling and the leg of the bed like a weapon in his hand, Jill pointed at him with his own pistol she'd tugged from his holster. "I'll shoot you."

Leon shook his head, "No, you won't. You would have already."

The question was, why hadn't she? It made him wonder what was keeping her from killing him to free herself. Why tie him up? Why not just kill him?

Unless maybe she wasn't a bad guy after all.

"Give me the gun, Jill."

"No. Fuck you. Open the door."

He reached toward her and she fired. The shot hit the wall an inch from his left ear. Admittedly, it scared ten years off his life. He froze. She froze, but she looked determined. "Open the fucking door, Kennedy. Don't test me."

Hands lifted, he told Cortana, "Open up, sweetheart."

The door beeped and slid upward. Jill rolled her eyes, "Even your stupid A.I. is a simpering female."

He tilted his head at her as she backed out the door. "You won't get far, kid. You know that."

"Oh, yeah I will. You're coming with me. Now. Move it."

Sighing, he followed her out into the hallway to the elevator. She gestured with the gun so he'd put his eye to the scanner. The elevator pinged and they stepped inside.

As it lowered, Leon wondered, "How far do you think you'll get in the lobby with that gun naked like that."

She tucked her left arm under his jacket around his waist. The right tucked the gun between them anchored to his ribs. She grinned widely, "Pretty far. Laugh, hotstuff. And make it count."

He obeyed, more amused than concerned. He was curious how far she'd take this desperate attempt. At least she wasn't whacking his hair off this time.

They crossed the lobby with his arm around her shoulders. She put her mouth to his ear and warned him, "When we're out in the street, we're gonna duck into the alley. Deactivate the collar and I'll let you go."

He shrugged, "Sure thing, princess. Whatever you say."

He was placating her. She hated him.

They stepped out the lobby doors and Jill hissed, "Ok..right over th-"

Dizzy, she staggered. The gun was easily tugged from her grip as she stumbled drunkenly and smacked into the wall. Before she went down completely, he scooped her up like a white knight into his arms.

Against her ear, he told her, "I fucking told you what happens when you wander outside the perimeter, Jill. You _can't _escape."

Her head lolled against his shoulder as he walked back toward the elevator. She murmured, slurring, "I never stopped..."

Curious, he glanced at her hooded eyes, "Stopped what?"

"...trying. I never stopped trying to escape." Her body turned heavy in his arms as the drug took her under.

As the elevator rose, he wondered what that meant. She'd never stop trying? Or she'd never _stopped _trying. Had she spent three years trying to escape Albert Wesker?

He glanced at her sleeping face as he carried her back into the penthouse. Had she been his prisoner all along? Leon tucked her on the bed and secured her left hand to the frame with the cuffs.

He studied her where she lay, breathing heavily.

Was he holding an innocent woman against her will?

He kept on standing there until the silence was more than he could handle and he went out to drown the doubt with a shot of whiskey.


	3. No Hope3

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One: **

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Big Bang Theory**

* * *

**Summer**

**-July, 1st - 2009 -**

* * *

Handcuffed to the bed, Jill watched the television strapped to the wall in front of her. He'd been kind enough to install a wall unit for her. She clicked on the remote with her lips pursed.

Nothing good.

You would not believe how bored one got while being forced to be bed ridden for hours and hours a day. He was kind enough to let her go with him to the gym sometimes in his apartment. He would cuff her to the heavy bar along the wall while he faced off against the heavy bag or practiced his weird martial arts.

At least he was entertaining. When he fell, he cursed and punched things. He was a vocal man harboring more than his fair share of rage. Why?

The loneliness?

On the bed, she clicked over to the security feed but it wanted a password. So she simply put the first thing she'd figured he'd use - WOMEN. It beeped and brought up all the cameras in the house while she rolled her eyes.

She could see outside. She could see the balcony. She could see the entire apartment. She paused on him swimming in the huge pool. This damn place was enormous. She wouldn't be surprised to find he had a stable or something hidden on the massive upper floor.

She clicked through images looking for anything she could use to escape. She'd been good for some time now, throwing him off. She was playing nice as can be, without selling out anyway. She still made sure to piss him off a hundred times a day, but he wasn't on edge anymore waiting for her to run. That was good. It was right where she wanted him.

She clicked on the feed of him in the pool and turned up the sound as he leveraged himself out of the pool. He had nice arms and enough chest hair to remember he wasn't a girl. He rose wet from the water and grabbed his phone to answer it.

Jill, unabashed, decided to listen in on his privacy. "Kennedy."

He narrowed his eyes and then closed them with long suffering patience, "...Senator, good morning to you too." Sarcasm was rich and thick in that pool room.

She watched him blow out a hard breath before he said, "No. Because I'm not interested. Because I'm not, John, that's why...no. I'm just fine where I'm at...no. _No." _Jill tilted her head at the frustration on his face, "Well, good for _you. _I don't need more power, Senator. I'm just fine where I'm at...you kidding? No. _NO."_

He almost shouted it.

She tilted her head back the other way curious about all that emotion on him. He was good at hiding it. All she'd seen is sarcastic humor and boredom. He looked livid. "Well, you do that. Yeah, that's right. I said no. You want it so bad, _you _go for it."

He clicked his phone closed. He put his face in his other hand and rubbed hard at his eyes. She watched him dig down for patience, lose anyway, and chuck that little phone into the pool as it started ringing again. He followed it up with a flip of the middle finger before he stalked toward the exit by the pool.

Senator John. The name was unfamiliar.

She had a thought and asked, "Cortana - who is Senator John?"

The A.I. came back to her with a happy tone, "Would you like me to call Kennedy, John S.?"

John Kennedy? The dead one? Wait...wasn't the other one John F. Kennedy?

Jill laughed. "Can you reach out to the dead?"

"I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"You wouldn't. You stupid machine. Yes. Call Kennedy, John."

The line rang and was answered, "Leonard - I swear to god, the next goddamn time you hang up on me, I'm going to have you black balled everywhere from the White House to the whore house."

Leonard.

LEONARD.

Her eyes flared. The Senator was Leon's _father._

When there was no answer, the Senator snapped, "You there, Leonard?"

After a moment, the line clicked off. Jill let out a guffaw of laughter. The slick wet sex god that hated his "daddy"...that guy was named LEONARD.

The phone rang on the nightstand beside her. The caller I.D. said it was Chris. She could have reached it to pick it up but she just let it go to voicemail. She wasn't ready to forgive the man who'd put her in prison.

* * *

She must have dozed off, because when she became aware again she could hear him out in the living room working. He was shouting at someone in Cantonese. Curious, she perked her ears up.

Her Chinese wasn't nearly as fluid as his, but then again she hadn't been munching on a native for years like he had either.

When he ended his call, she lifted her voice, "Yoohoo! Hotshot?"

"What?"

He sounded irritated. She liked it. At least that reaction was real. "Uncuff me here and let's go take a break from whatever has your panties up your ass."

She heard him drum his fingers on the table, and then to her surprise, he came to do just that.

He took her down to his gym and uncuffed her. He let her spar with him. He either wasn't very good, or he wasn't trying very hard because she put him on his ass four times before she spoke up.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

As he flipped to his feet, she watched the confusion on him. "What?"

"You can't be the same guy whispered about all over the place. You suck at hand to hand. What gives? You pulling your punches?"

He arched his brows at her. "...you won't let me touch you without screaming at the top of your lungs, makes it hard for us to tussle, Valentine."

Oh.

She taunted him with a curl of her finger. "You can touch me - just don't try to grope me."

He tilted his head, "Why would I? I think you're repellent."

Wow.

She felt a shiver of insult. "Ditto, kiddo. I wouldn't touch your cock if we were the last two people on Earth and we needed to propagate the species."

Leon chuckled, not offended in the least, "Good to know. However...you look like a girl who just got her pride wounded, doll face. Want me to apologize?"

"You arrogant fu-" He'd been trying to distract her, clearly. He rushed her while she spat at him. He caught her around the middle, arched his back, and threw her over his head like he'd suplex her.

Impressed, she hooked her arms around his neck, swung over his shoulders, and looped her legs around his waist. A handful of seconds that ended with her tossing him into the wall.

She was like a serpent.. He was starting to suspect she didn't have a spine. She moved like water.

They paced each other, respectful now.

Jill mused, "You're bigger than me. Why you lingering? Scared?"

He laughed and charged her. Jill braced and he slid to the ground like he was trying take home in a baseball game. She dove over his head and landed, he grabbed her ankles as she did, and jerked until she fell to her face. When she swirled like she'd reverse it, he tugged her forward and pinned her to the mat.

"Uncle?"

Jill laughed harshly, "I don't know...I don't think I have an Uncle _LEONARD."_

He froze.

She chuckled into the red mat, "That's right. I know your secret, Kennedy. Leon..._my ass."_

She reared back to throw a reverse head butt. He caught her hair in his fist, dragged her across the mat, and tossed her into the wall. It hurt. She grunted as she hit and sprang off.

She drove him back with a flurry of jabs and kicks. He blocked, reversed, and hip tossed her toward the door. As he came for her, she foot swept him, stuck her shoulder in his stomach and tossed him over her.

Honestly, trying to beat his ass was the most fun she'd had in days.

As he rolled through the landing, Jill swung a back kick at him and hit him square in the stomach. He grunted, grabbed her ankle, and jerked her toward him. She let him, fell down atop him, and sat right on his face with her thighs smothering him..

Admittedly, he didn't mind a woman on his face - but not when she was trying to kill him.

"Say uncle...Leonard."

He was a fucking man made out of rubber. She was fairly certain of that. He arched his hips, hooked his calves over her face and tugged her backward. She went backward with the force of and he rolled her beneath him. They grappled on the mat, fighting for control.

Headlock, leg lock, smack to the face.

Elbow, shin slapping, light punch to the kidney.

Convinced he was taking it easy, Jill rolled into his attack zone and he proved her right. He didn't punch her in the face, he went for her ribs. Her? She punched him straight in the nose for it.

When the blood burst across his face, he stopped being nice. She turned to run for it, and he grabbed her hair to sling her to the mat. When she scrambled, he kicked her hard in the stomach and stole her breath.

As she lay on her side, heaving for air, Leon grunted, "Bitch. You want to have a real fight, we can do that."

Jill hissed hoarsely, "You like hitting girls?"

"..honey, you ain't a girl. I'm pretty sure you're a demon. Forget Jill, from now on? I'm gonna call you Bill."

She couldn't help. She coughed trying to get some air, and then she started to laugh.

It probably said something that they were both just fucked up enough to enjoy smacking the shit out of each other. Truthfully, she liked him better when he treated her like she wasn't some fragile little thing waiting to shatter like glass. He hit hard. He was good.

She hit back and reminded him that just because she had tits, didn't mean she wasn't dangerous.

She still seemed unsure, like she couldn't understand her own weakness. Hadn't he read somewhere that the drug she'd been on had enhanced her abilities? She'd been like a man hopped up on PCP before. She was struggling to find her place with the strength of a normal person.

When they finished, panting, sweating, and side by side on the mat with their feet facing opposite ways and their heads ear to ear, he considered how good it felt to spar with another person. She was probably the best person he'd gone up against in hand to hand combat in a long time.. Whatever training she'd had, it had been exhaustive.

Impressed, he panted, "You fight pretty well...for a girl."

Rolling her eyes, Jill remarked, "I thought you said I was a demon."

He rolled his head toward her. She did the same. They eyed each other from inches away before he answered, "You might be both."

They kept on staring at each other until his phone started ringing. She watched him roll to his feet and wondered what he was thinking. Her? She rapidly becoming very aware that over powering Kennedy was definitely not an option.

She'd have to find another way to manipulate him into setting her free. She just had to find out what his weaknesses were.

* * *

**July, 4th - 2009-**

* * *

They sat on his balcony watching the fireworks down over Central Park. He let her have a glass of wine. He looked sorta stupid with his nose taped and swollen, but it made her feel better anyway.

She watched him toss back a shot of whiskey and hiss.

Curious, she wondered, "You drink because your old man is an asshole?"

Surprised, he glanced at her, "...what the hell did you overhear?"

"Enough. Leonard is a shitty name. I'd be pissed too."

He laughed lightly and shrugged, "The name is one thing. The legacy is different. By the time I was ten years old, I think I'd spent maybe a handful of days with the old man. Quality family time isn't a real popular concept in the Kennedy Estate."

Jill watched the fireworks flicker over his face. After a moment, he turned his gaze back to her. They stared at each other in the dim darkness. She finally spoke, "You don't act like a guy who had a shitty father."

He smiled wryly, "Yeah...Adam."

She tilted her head and he said, "Benford."

"The Vice President? You call him "Adam"?"

He shrugged, "I was best friends with his daughter. I spent alot of summers there. Katie was a girl that got the joy of leaving the boarding school during Holidays to go home. After awhile...I did too."

Jill studied his face. "Katie..." She tossed thoughts around in her head before she finished, "First love?"

He shrugged again, "More like the sister I'd always wanted. She was a district attorney in an up and coming metropolis. I decided to go the hero route instead and became a cop. My dad hated it and me for it. So when it came time to pick my city - I picked the one with family in it."

Jill paused with her wine halfway to her lips. She volleyed her gaze over his face until it hit her what he was saying. "...Raccoon City."

Leon spread his hands in a "ta-da" gesture, "City of dreams, right? City of the dead. One fucking day on the force - they tried to stop me. They warned me...but Kate was there, ya know? I had to go."

Jill felt a bubble of sympathy. She sipped the wine and finally rose, "You fucking idiot. You didn't have to go. Who the hell knows where you'd be if you'd decided not to be a goddamn hero?"

He said nothing, staring at her.

Jill shook her head, "I'm gonna go to bed." She didn't want to feel anything about him. Not sympathy. Not empathy. Not companionship.

She was starting to like him as a person. She didn't want to like or respect him. She just wanted to get the hell away from him.

She went into the bedroom. She tried to lay on the bed, but it was pointless. She couldn't sleep that way. She hadn't been able to in a long time. She curled up in a corner facing the door and the windows. She kept a pillow in front of her and brought her knees up like a shield.

This was - she could see everything.

She leaned on the wall, waiting for sleep to claim her. When it did, it was fitful. She dreamed of Raccoon City and the Nemesis. The flames and the screams and the death. She tried to save them, but the people just ran in fear and died.

She was a failure.

She couldn't save anyone. She couldn't save herself. She was nothing, nothing, nothing...but another victim.

* * *

_His hands skimmed down her hips. __His breath was hot and steamy on her ear. His whisper was painful in her belly, "Tonight...I need you to cry for me. Will you cry for me, Jill? I'll make it hurt so good."_

_His hand skimmed down her butt. Her eyes stared forward like a doll. In her head, she was screaming. She was always screaming. He tucked his fingers toward her ass. He spit on his hand and grabbed himself in preparation. If she could just _**_move, _**_she could kill him with the gun lying two feet away on the floor._

_Instead, the voice said, "Lift your hips, Jill, and submit."_

_And she did it. She lifted her hips, but she didn't cry even when he angled himself at her aching ass...and the screaming in her head was deafening._

* * *

"No! NO! No no no! GET OFF ME! YOU SON OF A BITCH!" She slapped wildly, madly, shaking and sweating.

But there was no one on top of her. There was no one behind her holding her down.

A shadow in the doorway had her horasely commanding, "..._don't come in!..._please...please." She hated how scared she sounded.

She watched him lean on the doorjamb. She could see his profile. He replied, calmly, "We managed to take a train out of Raccoon City before the bomb hit."

Jill went silent, breathing raggedly, and somehow taking measure in the comfort of his voice. No pressure here, she thought, just him trying to distract her. She trembled with the pillow in her lap and listened.

"The longest night of our lives was over. We'd survived, together, like two fucked up in peas in the same pod filled with death." He paused and sighed, "You asked me why I was alone?"

Softly, she made a sound of ascent.

"That's why. I stood in the coming dawn with a girl who might have been my forever...and I asked her to stay with me. Just stay, I said. Stay with me. But Claire...she had a brother to find. She had a life to get back to. She left Sherry and I and ran off to find it. I thought I'd lost the spy who'd played me in the bowels of that city. I knew I'd lost the only other person on Earth who might comfort me when it was over. But I had to protect that little girl. I had to. So I stayed..and I protected them both...and it cost me everything."

The silence dragged for a moment. She felt that flicker of sympathy again. She finally filled the quiet with a hoarse response, "...you did the right thing."

He glanced into the room at her face. She held his gaze and nodded, "...I went out a window to protect my family. You ran into a burning city to save yours. And you let your life slip right through your hands trying to protect what mattered to you...we're not so different you and I."

He flicked his gaze over her face, "...what happened to you when he had you?"

Jill said nothing.

So he added, "...I'll protect you too, Jill, even if you keep on fighting me."

She believed him. She shook her head, "...the hero always dies, Kennedy. How do you think this ends for you?"

And he said, "Somewhere dark and quiet...and peaceful." He leaned away from the door, "Feel better?"

She cleared her throat and nodded, "...yeah..I-goodnight."

Leon nodded and turned toward the living room.

Into the silence left behind, she murmured, "...and thank you."

In the living room, Leon stared at his reflection in the window looking out over the beautiful city that never slept. She'd been screaming not to touch her. She'd been having nightmares about being forced down.

Why?

But his mind said: _you know why. _

Wherever she'd been, Jill Valentine had been more than a handmaiden...someone had used her like a whore. She'd been raped, by the sounds of her screaming, repeatedly. Wesker?

His mouth was dry with rage on her behalf. There was nothing worse than a piece of shit who forced himself on another. His stomach jerked in sympathy. Maybe it was time for him to consider the possibility that she'd been a prisoner, a slave, and a victim.

He didn't know what to believe.

His faced stared back at him, tired and lost. It was time he requested her records and started looking for the truth.

* * *

**August 24th -2009-**

* * *

"I'm gonna throw you over this goddamn railing, Jill!"

Jill shoved the chair from the dinette between them as she rushed outside. The summer sun was warm on her face as the breeze tickled her ears. She dangled his pistol over the balcony edge.

He froze, hands lifted, "Come on, Jill...come on...that was a gift from when I graduated the Academy. Her name is Matilda. Don't do it. Just hand it back to me."

"You kidding? You _PISSED _on me!"

He winced at the volume of her voice, "Ok...yes, that's true, but in my defense..you dumped piss on me the other day...so I was just returning the favor."

Jill pointed at him with a snarl, "I was napping, you asshole, NAPPING...you- _you pissed right in my hair!"_

Ok. So he'd done that. She'd been in the tub, buried in bubbles, cuffed to the faucet. Just minding her own business, and he'd whipped his dick out and just pissed right in her hair.

No forethought, just reaction.

He'd been taking a shower the day before and she'd pissed in the cup he used to rinse his mouth after brushing, pulled open the door, and tossed her urine all over him taunting, "Who's the golden boy now, Leonard?"

So he'd pissed all over her head and incited a riot, clearly. As she'd jumped up, screeching, he'd left the bathroom whistling.

Two hours later, during a failed attempt to beat her at Call of Duty in the dirty nasty village, she'd gotten her revenge. She'd leaned over him for the bag of chips, skimmed her breast against his thigh and had his alarms blaring, and looked up at him with all that blonde hair in her face. He'd, apparently, channeled absolute stupidity that came with being abstinent for over two years because he'd blinked at her and leaned down to -what? Kiss her?

Who tried to kiss the devil!?

And she'd grabbed his gun from his holster, jerked it free, and slapped his face with her other hand.

Ear ringing, he'd chased her to the balcony.

She held his only link to any kind of happiness over the balcony threateningly. "What do you want, huh? What's it gonna take?"

"Set me free."

"...I can't." He said it in a way that gave her pause. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You meant won't."

He shook his head. "No...I mean I _can't. _I wish I could, but this? We're both stuck here, sweetheart. Maybe it's time we both tried to make the best of it."

She licked her lips. He lifted his hands like he was talking a jumper off the ledge. "Come on, Jill. Let's-how about this? Dinner?"

She narrowed her eyes, "Dinner?"

"Y-yeah, easy! Please! Just-dinner. Tonight. I'll take you out...you can show me that you're gonna behave...and we can start being grown ups. What'd ya say?"

Jill eased the gun back over the railing and watched him heave out a breath of relief. "...fine. Deal, but I want lobster."

His brows winged up, "You think the agency gives you a food allowance for shellfish?"

"I think you're paying for it money bags, so it doesn't matter. Dinner, on you, lobster and wine. Agree...or say goodbye to Matilda!"

He jumped in fear, "DEAL! Jesus...deal. For god's sake just-please. Put her down on the table. Nicely. GENTLY."

Jill rolled her eyes and plopped his gun on the table. She shoulder bumped him, hard, as she went by. "What kind of pansy names his gun after a girl?"

Before she made it inside, he remarked, "Matilda was my favorite dog. She was loyal. She never left my side until the day she died. This gun? It's never failed me. It's the only thing in my life I can count on."

Jill paused, she winced, and she looked over her shoulder at him, "...I really fucking hate how goddamn endearing that is...Leonard."

She really hated that she was kinda looking forward to leaving this high-rise hellhole to go out and mingle with mouth breathers. Apparently, she wasn't as much of a recluse as she'd thought. She was missing the company of other people.

The human condition was a fucking mystery sometimes.

It was the same one that kinda found the stupid story of a boy and his faithful mutt that he paid homage to in the form of a trusty firearm...charming.

Aloud, she muttered, "Jesus...I'm starting to think I enjoy his company..."

The idea literally made her feel sick.

And then he called, "Put on something pretty...Bill."

She _hated _Leonard Kennedy.


	4. No Hope4

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Truth Takes Time**

* * *

**Summer**

**-August, 24th- 2009 -**

* * *

He called to extend the coverage on her necklace to half a mile outside the building. Apparently, that's all she was going to get.

He took her to a crab-shack and had her laughing. She'd expected...what? Some fancy place with silk napkins.

Instead, she sat watching a man do the jig on a table top to _The Devil Went Down to Georgia_ while hot waitresses doused themselves in pitchers of beer. Honestly? It was noisy and raucous and wild.

And fun.

It wasn't a place she'd ever imagined him enjoying.

She sat across from him in jeans and white t-shirt. Her hair was gathered off her face in a low ponytail. He'd thrown on a green ringneck tee in that material that looked old but likely cost a fortune.

It had the suggestion of a pickle with sunglasses and floppy hair on it and the words that claimed _Just Dill with It. _A pun. He was known for them, so she understood.

Without all the shaggy hair, she could just make out a mark on his left ear that had her eyes narrowing in the smoky air. He was smoking and his foot was tapping. He was happily watching the girls in the wet t-shirts dance.

So she said, "You wore an earring?"

Brows arched, he turned his attention back to her. She reached for his cigarettes and helped herself, lighting one up to inhale the acrid nastiness into her lungs. Honestly, smoking was disgusting, but it was better than killing yourself with booze.

Of course, Kennedy was doing both.

But that wasn't her business.

He tapped his cigarette onto the floor along with all the peanut shells and ashes already littering the marred surface. "Sure. Highschool. My last great attempt to be a cool guy."

Her mouth twitched. She tapped her fingers on the table and finally stuck her tongue out. He narrowed his eyes at it for a long moment before he hooted out a laugh and had her smiling, "Really? The tongue? You have a barbell?"

Jill snorted, "Of course. I was a rebel, right? Piercings. Loud music. A Whitesnake leather jacket."

His eyes twinkled. "Hmm. You'd have been too cool for me, I think."

She picked up her hammer and smashed the claw of the crab in front of her. It cracked and threw sharp pieces. He laughed, "Also too deadly."

Jill grinned. "...you need me to say out loud that I'm innocent?"

The laughter from around them dimmed a little. He focused on her, swirling the long neck beer he held before he took a pull and answered, "I'd be a fucking idiot to just take you at your word, Jill. Tell me you don't know that. Tell me, if it was reversed, you'd believe me."

She heaved out an angry sigh. "Kennedy - What fucking good does it do to keep me locked up? You don't like me. Most of the time, we fight like cats and dogs. What happens when neither of us can stand it anymore? You gonna hand me off to get a bullet to the back of my skull by firing squad at dawn?"

He stuck his booted foot up on the bench beside her. She liked the scuffed old cowboy boots on him, they fit somehow. He was considering her. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd plead her case over shellfish and they could part as...two people who'd thrown urine on each other.

Finally, he said, "...I can't. It hasn't been long enough. Even if I wanted to believe you, there's no proof, and you still did those things, Jill. All of them. Under the influence or not, you have to serve time for that. Someone has to pay for all those bodies."

Her heart shivered. Didn't he get it? She'd been paying for years. She paid every time she closed her eyes. She paid when she was awake, she paid when she was sitting or standing or shitting or eating. She was always paying. Those dead children, those dead women and men, they haunted her.

But Jill gave it one last shot, "Let me go, Kennedy, please. I will disappear. You won't ever see me again. I swear to _god _I'm not the enemy."

With some level of regret, he answered, "I _can't, _Jill. I'm sorry."

She believed him, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. She was a prisoner. She'd always be a prisoner.

He turned his head to answer the high pitched whistling of one of the wet t-shirt waitresses. She was flirting and winking and inviting him up on the bar. Amused, he speculated, "Gutsy broad, isn't she? How does she know we're not together?"

Jill rolled her eyes, "Because maybe she can tell I'm not the type to date a man who calls women "broads"."

Leon winked at her, "You're a special broad, Valentine. More balls than boobs."

She rolled her eyes. He grinned. With a sigh, Jill encouraged, "You should go. Get laid. Have a blast. At least one of us has that option."

He returned, "You wanna get laid? I make a great wing man."

The look on her face was all the confirmation he needed. She looked pale around the lips and mouth. The idea of getting laid terrified her. She shook her head, and cleared her throat, "...pass. One fuck is the same as any other, right? Besides...prisoners don't make good bed partners."

Quietly, he avowed, "You're not a prisoner, Jill. This? It's for your protection too. Even if you're innocent, somebody could be looking for you still. The safest place while you recover, is isolation."

She gave him a tired look, "I've been in isolation, Kennedy...for years. I'm tired of people telling me what to do and what I need. Let me _go."_

He shook his head and looked back at the girls on the stage. Jill felt her lip tremble. She would _not _cry. No way. Not now, not ever, not over this shit. She'd survived. She'd made it. She wouldn't weep because she was trapped as the unwanted house guest of a man who acted like she was a boil on the ass of humanity.

No.

Jill picked up her glass of wine. She brought it to her lips as Leon winked at the girl on stage that was rolling her hips and dancing to _Proud Mary_. The pretty young thing with skin like coffee with three creams. The girl tossed streaky dark hair and shimmied.

Had she ever been that young?

It seemed unlikely.

Finally, Jill shifted on the bench. She knew if she stayed, if she obeyed, she could spend the rest of her life in service "to her country" for the "crimes she'd committed". Punished for being a person who'd given her life to a fight that had destroyed her. Raped, robbed of her identity, tossed into a nightmare without end and without control - she'd come home, not a hero, a traitor.

To sit in silence at the behest of a man who hated her guts.

The girl on the stage called, "What's your name, handsome?"

Satan. His name was Leonard Satan Kennedy.

Leon opened his mouth to answer and Jill tossed her wine in his face. No thinking. She just tossed it. He sputtered, Jill put her boot against the bench he was on between his knees and shoved, and the whole thing went backwards.

The clatter was loud even over all the singing and laughing.

She scrambled to her feet while he went down and ran for it as people came to help him up.

Heart pounding, she hit the women's bathroom and went right for the furthest stall. Without stopping, she leaped up, gripped the pipe above her head, and swung her legs out to kick the window near the ceiling.

It clunked open, Jill swung herself through the opening, and landed in a dumpster just outside the window. She gripped the collar in her hands and jerked, jerked, and shouted her rage into the patter of rain on her head. With a searing frustration, she nearly wept with anger.

She rolled through the stench of garbage and got to her feet. Using the shadows, Jill eased through the alley beside the restaurant. She had half a mile. How long could she play cat and mouse with him?

She couldn't run out him. She'd get knocked on her ass. However...her gaze turned up. Maybe she could _out climb _him.

She grabbed for the fire escape and started upward.

At the top, she half crouched and half ran to the far side of the roof. What was the likelihood of escaping by a U.F.O. seeing her and dropping through space to claim her? Earth sucked, maybe she should take a chance on a galaxy far _far _away.

Behind her, he said, "I have a fucking tracker in the necklace, Jill."

She paused at the edge of the roof. If she jumped, it would be over right? She'd failed to die the first time she leaped to her death. Would she fail again?

She hadn't been afraid when she'd taken Wesker through the glass then. She was afraid now...and she hated him for it.

Wesker?

No- _Kennedy._

She turned around to face him. She backed up to the edge of the roof and had his eyes flaring, "...Jesus, Jill. Don't."

"Don't what? I jump - your worries? Over. Mine? Done. Shit - do me a favor and pull that fucking hand cannon I nearly disposed of today and kill me now. Do it. Blow apart my chest from ten feet away. Do me a favor. It's gotta be better than this shit."

He shook his head. He pulled the Magnum from his holster and tossed it to the far side of the roof. "See? We're good. I'm not gonna shoot you, ok? Just come away from the edge."

She laughed, almost desperately, "Why? Why do you _care_?! You hate me. I hate you. This? This can be the end of two fucking months of torture for us. Get the gun, Leonard, and shoot me."

He shook his head again, "Jill...this? It's just temporary. It ends. It always ends. It doesn't have to go down like this. You can make a choice, right now, to step away from the edge. If you're telling the truth, and you jump, he wins. He wins because he stole your life anyway. Even from the goddamn grave."

IF. IF she was innocent. To her surprise, she shouted above the wind, "_I'm not a fucking traitor!" _It echoed. He jumped. She shouted again, "Do you fucking hear me!? I'm a goddamn patriot! I did everything I was supposed to do! The training. The loyalty. The goddamn self-sacrifice! I did it all! And all it got me was tortured! TORTURED! RAPED!"

She watched him flinch and threw it at him like a weapon, "Please! You knew it. You've always known! He used me like a whore. He traded me for funds, for favors, for fun. He made sure I knew because I'd betrayed him in Raccoon City, all those years ago, I had it coming! He had me kill my friends! My teammates! He had me slaughter kids and villages and lay on my face while his fat disgusting monstrous friends fucked me in every hole I had until I bled."

Her voice broke, shaming her, and angering her, "I won't go back! Do you fucking hear me!? I won't go back to custody! I won't go back to being a slave! I won't...I _can't_! Let me go! Please! Please let me go...please..."

He actually looked riddled with guilt when he responded, "...I'm so sorry, Jill...but I can't."

Defeated, she sank to her knees, because she was too afraid to fall to her death. She was a coward at the core. She'd lost her fight. She'd had it all ripped from her. She was dead already in some ways...she should just jump and be done with it.

Her hands and arms trembled as she laid them open on her knees to stare at the rain on her fingers. Softly, she begged, "...let me go...please..."

She leaned toward the edge and felt the back of her shirt grabbed as he tugged her away from the fall. Maybe she'd have stopped herself. Maybe, but she wasn't sure anymore. She wasn't sure of anything.

After a moment, she felt the air shift as he crouched in front of her. She lifted her gaze to his face. He didn't look angry. He looked determined. He put his hand out to her, palm up.

And he said, "Take my hand, Jill. Let me take you home."

Home.

She didn't have one of those anymore.

She'd been dead for three years. She had nothing and no one waiting for her.

Her lips trembled as she replied, "Why do you care, Kennedy? Why? You get a fucking medal for saving me?"

He shook his head, he waited, and then he told her, "I'd feel the same way if I was you. But the option of taking our own lives no longer belongs to us. Once we choose to pick up the gun and fight, Jill, we owe it to the people who died alongside us; we have to continue living... even if it means living the rest of our lives without anything but cold determination to drive us. Even if means fighting on when there's no hope left."

She scanned his face, feeling a swell of painful commiseration. "...I don't know if I can. What if this is all there ever is for me now?"

He kept his hand out to her and stated, "...then you're not alone. Let me help you, Jill, and don't let him win."

Her eyes closed. She gathered herself and the one single tear that peeked free of her boiling pain was lost in the rain as she rose. She didn't take his hand, but she didn't jump off the roof either.

He figured that was progress.

* * *

Huddled in her corner, sweating and shaking, Jill turned her face into the pillow she clasped against her and started to break apart. She felt the sob build up in her chest and pushed her face deeper into the heavy goose-down. If she fell apart now, she'd never get back up.

Desperately, she tried to find anything at all to keep the tide from taking her under...and out in the living room, she heard the piano.

She froze, eyes wide, as the lulling chords wafted around her like perfume. Her head lifted. She trembled and stared at the wall. Each note brought her breathing a little less ragged.

Her eyes drifted closed as she listened to him play and sing. She wondered if he knew she was awake and suffering. Maybe he was playing to soothe her. Since she didn't like the idea of him being that astute, she shook her head to deny it.

_One hand reaches out..._

_And pulls a lost soul from harm_  
_While a thousand more go unspoken for_  
_And they say what good have you done_  
_By saving just this one?_  
_It's like whispering a prayer in the fury of a storm.._

_And I hear them saying_  
_You'll never change things_  
_And no matter what you do it's still the same thing_  
_But it's not the world that I am changing_  
_I do this so this world will know_  
_That it will not change me_

She didn't even realize she'd drifted off to sleep listening to the promise of that song.

Every night for three weeks, she'd awake sweating and terrified.

Every night for three weeks, she'd panic until he started playing.

3:00 a.m.

Midnight.

It didn't matter.

He played. She calmed. She listened.

_This man still believes_  
_That love and mercy still exist_  
_While all the hatreds rage_  
_And so many say_  
_That love is all but pointless_  
_In madness such as this_  
_It's like trying to stop a fire_  
_With the moisture from a kiss_

She didn't know how he stayed so hopeful. She wanted, desperately, to feel anything like hope again. A whisper of it. An echo.

During the day, they trained. They didn't really talk. He worked. She let him cuff her to various things. She didn't fight back. She didn't do anything but seem defeated. He was afraid she'd given up.

Then the night would come.

The fourth week she woke. She panicked. She ventured out into the hallway...and she waited.

And he played.

She sat in the shadows of the big windows and the moon and she listened.

_And I hear them saying  
You'll never change things  
And no matter what you do it's still the same thing  
But it's not the world that I am changing  
I do this so this world we know  
Never changes me_

He stopped cuffing her to things. She said nothing. She noticed he gave her a knife to cut her food at dinner. She said nothing. He talked to her. He told her about the weather, about the news, about work.

She said nothing.

She felt somehow naked and began cuffing herself instead. He noticed and said nothing. What kind of person felt safer when they were chained up? Someone who'd spent a long, long, long time in chains.

Chris called. She didn't answer.

And then the night would come.

The fifth week she woke. She was buried under a blanket and nearly threw up getting it off of her. She crawled into the hallway. She shifted to the edge of the couch. She waited.

And he played.

When he reached the end of the song, she shifted to sit against the side of the piano with her back there, resting.

A_s long as one hand still holds on_  
_Then hope is never really gone_

_What I do is so_  
_This world will know_  
_That it will not change me_

He finished. He sat there in his sleeping pants and t-shirt. She tucked her cheek against her knees and said, "...can you share that hope?"

And he patted the piano bench beside him.

Jill shifted up beside him. She touched the ivory. She felt her heart clutch, and she started to play. The music poured out of her. Fast, dangerous, sharp and swift and desperate. A lilting tune of loss and need and hopelessness. He watched her face while she played. He heard her breath hitch and catch.

But she didn't cry.

He wondered what kind of strength it took to survive what she had.

Without looking at him, she spoke quietly."Who are you? You go around killing shit...and you can do this. You could be so much more than a guy with a gun. You know what I mean?"

More than a guy with a gun. He'd wanted that more than anything once upon a time. A burning city and a bold choice had made sure he'd never be anything else again. So he answered her, with a shiver of real acceptance, "I know what you mean...you find something that you love, and then you twist it, and you torture it, try and find a way to make money at it. You spend a lifetime doing that. At the end, you can't find a trace of what you started out lovin'. What'd you start out lovin, Jill?"

Her belly clenched in sympathy mixed with regret, "...I can't even remember anymore."

"Me either...I guess that's why I go around killin shit."

Softly, when she finished, he asked, "...what did he do to you?"

"...made sure I couldn't feel love anymore." She brushed a hand over the keys, "But he couldn't take everything...thank you for this."

He resisted the urge to look around to see if hell had frozen over beneath him. She'd not only spoken to him, she'd thanked him. He wanted to rewind the security cameras and see it again to be sure it had really happened.

"You're welcome, Jill."

She went back to her room without another word.

Into the quiet darkness, Leon murmured, "...you're in there, Jill Valentine, I'm gonna bring you back."

When had he started to believe she wasn't a traitor?

When had he started to realize she was just a survivor?

He stroked the keys on the piano and wondered how he could save her...no...he wondered how he could help her _save herself._

* * *

He woke up on the couch with a blanket across him. He hadn't gone to bed with one. She'd covered him up at some point in the night.

She'd cleaned up his whiskey and his mess on the table. She'd organized his files into a neat stack. She'd...highlighted things on his notes to push him in different directions with his rambling thoughts.

She was...trying to help him?

He rose and went to her bedroom door.

She was handcuffed to the bed but still wedged in her corner. With a roll of sympathy, Leon unlocked her cuffs and picked her up in his arms. She curled against him, boneless, as he laid her on the bed and covered her up. He started to hook the cuff around the bed again and paused.

Instead, he set it on the pillow beside her.

Sleeping like she was, she looked young, exhausted, and soft. It was hard to imagine her as a woman bathed in blood slaughtering villages. He wondered what had really motivated him to help her.

Sure, Chris had begged and pleaded like a man willing to sell his soul, but that wasn't it. Not really. What had done it?

Of course, he knew the answer. He was lonely. He'd been alone for so long. When Chris had told him about Jill, it made sense. She was alone too. Trapped in a world without any escape. Forced into murder she didn't want to commit.

She was bound without a choice.

Maybe he knew better than most what that could feel like. How many nights did he bury his own misery in a bottle of booze to cover up the fact that he felt blackmailed into a life he didn't want? At first, he'd been trapped by powers beyond his control.

And now?

Now he was trapped by his own conscience.

He was bound to the battle by chains made of determination and desperation. It had to matter. What they did, it had to matter. If it didn't, his whole life had been for nothing.

Jill was so lost. She was nearly too far gone. How did he pull her back...when he was in a tailspin so fast he was nearly gone himself?

Why had he said yes to being her guardian?

Because sometimes...two wrongs had a chance to make a right. Maybe, just maybe, they'd find a way to save each other. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't alone in his misery.

What was the old saying? Misery loves company. He looked down at the sleeping mess on his bed. His hand skimmed over her hair to push it back off her face. In sleep, she looked...beautiful. Ethereal almost. It was hard to believe she was a demoness when she was awake.

She wasn't his first choice for it, but by god...he couldn't be sorry for the company.

The only thing he knew how to do was help. So he was going to help her...even if cost him every hair on his head.


	5. No Hope5

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Aversion Perversion**

* * *

**Fall**

**-October 18th, 2009-**

* * *

"Don't make me do it, Jill..."

"It's too late. There's no going back now."

"...just remember who offered you clemency, woman." And he shot her in the face.

On the huge television, her character collapsed in the dirt. From the bedroom, Jill shouted, "DOUCHE!"

"What!? It's not my fault. We're on separate teams, Bill!"

"You ever been in combat in the desert, hotshot? It's not even like this! And STOP CALLING ME BILL!"

"Stop calling me Leonard!"

She laughed and shook her head. Admittedly, she was enjoying the gaming. He was really good at it, minus the times she needed him to drive the Warthog on Halo. Even there, Leon Kennedy was a shitty driver.

He was always, always, always vocal. He laughed loudly, he cursed, he slung shit and did dances when he won. He might be a lot of things, but he was always entertaining. Jill had started to count on his ability to make her laugh when she was feeling down.

She'd yet to crack the edge of his misery though. When she found him the night before, drunk on the couch and staring, she'd tried to get him to open up about it. He'd smiled sadly and remarked, "Don't worry about me, kid...me? I'm bulletproof."

She was pretty sure bulletproof guys didn't try to get their liver to vacate their bodies on a tidal wave of scotch.

At his age, he should be out with women making poor sexual decisions and regretting it the next morning. As far as she could tell, he didn't go out. He didn't fuck. He didn't even flirt.

She'd heard he was a notorious one, but each time she observed him with women - the kind who stopped by for work or called or video chatted him via conference calls - he was professional, friendly, charming. She wasn't seeing a flirt. She was seeing a eunuch.

Jill knew why she was so comfortable around him now. He wasn't interested in fucking her. He wasn't interested in fucking _anyone _as far as she could tell. She was relatively certain he wasn't even jerking himself off at night.

His balls were likely as blue as his eyes by now.

Eventually, she knew he'd have to take a mission. He was already pacing like a caged tiger. He missed the fight, clearly, and keeping her hostage was taking its toll on him.

So she said, "Why don't you go fight for real? Get someone to babysit me and go kick some asses."

He appeared in the doorway of her room in a pair of faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt. "Right. I trust you not to run enough to leave you with a different handler so I can go attempt to kill shit."

"So take me with you." The moment she said it, she realized she meant it. She wanted to go there. She wanted to get back into the battle. She missed the thrill of the fight. She missed the adrenaline and the rush of survival.

They were both stagnating here.

His brows arched and she lifted a hand, "Come on, just listen. I need to work off my time in service right? So use me."

The silence stretched for a moment. She was aware, on one hand, how dirty that sounded. His mouth twitched. Hers did too. With a roll of her eyes, she invited, "Come on, Kennedy, put me to use. Whatever else is true, I make a helluva soldier. Let me prove my loyalty here. Put a gun in my hands, I won't let you down."

And now he laughed, "Yeah, right. A gun. You want me to just hand you a gun?"

"Yes!"

"Fine." He tugged the Magnum from the small of his back and tossed it on the bed to her. It bounced and settled, "You have a gun. Pick it up."

Jill, brows knitted, picked it up, "...ok. Now what?" What game was he playing here?

"If I take that gun from you, I win. You keep it, I'll take you down to the DSO building and let you run a mission simulation with me."

A bet. A dare. A dangerous game. If she lost, she'd never get another chance. If she won, she just might get her freedom.

Jill rose off the bed, "Ok. Right here in the bedroom? Or you wanna take this to the gym?"

"No. Fuck it. Here. Right now. Keep the gun. That simple."

"No rules?"

"Just don't lose."

And he rushed her.

Surprised, she rolled over the bed as he missed grabbing her hair but got her foot. She slung up with the other to try to kick him in the face and he caught that one and flipped her to her back. He jerked her forward, Jill let him, and she rose up to punch him in the face.

In fairness, he let it happen. The second she hit him, he backhanded her in return. The sound was loud in the room.

She was slung to the side and half rolled. As she gasped, shaking on the bed, he said quietly, "...you're not hopped up on drugs anymore, Jill. That advantage you had, that strength...it's not gonna spare you. I'm twice as big as you are. I'm just as good. Your options here are limited. You cannot win against me just using sheer strength. So how do you think you'll win?"

She rolled onto her back as he reached for her again and kicked at his belly. A simple block and a jerk on her leg had her rolling her shoulders up to grab his shirt. She humped back, stuck her feet in his belly, and tossed him toward the dresser. But he was right. She was limited here. One - her hand was still around the gun. Two -he wasn't just some kid on the street.

He hit the floor, rolled through it to his feet, and grabbed one of her boots off the floor. As she ducked, he chucked it, hit her in the shoulder as she hit the floor on her side and missed getting it square in the face. Breathing hard, she gripped the gun desperately as he cajoled, coolly, "You're not ready for missions."

Angry, she spat, "Why not? I was the best in the fucking business at hand to hand before I died."

"Were you? Or were you just the best in the BSAA?"

She started to snarl back and the comforter fluttered over her body, wrapping her in a silky cocoon. Cursing, struggling, she felt him roll her up like a burrito while she fought him. She jammed the gun into him through the comforter and snapped, "I could shoot you, you fucking asshole."

"Yeah?" He slammed her so hard into the wall in her cocoon it left her dazed. She wiggled and screamed in frustration.

"Relent, Jill."

"NO! I can't stay here anymore! You have to take me out of this place!"

"Last time I did that, you tried to jump off a roof."

"I won't! Please! I won't! I swear! I just want to see the grass and walk in the park and play with a fuckin dog or something. Please."

Softening, he set her burrito body down on her feet. It was his mistake. She used her own momentum to drive him backward. He grunted and landed on his back on the bed, Jill whipped the comforter off of her and tossed it on him, and they fought against her shoving it over him like a shroud.

When he grabbed for her, Jill wrapped the comforter over his arm, jerked, and yanked him off the bed to his knees on the floor. She whipped the pistol at his face and he caught her wrist, tugged, and threw her into the wall for it. When she whipped around to try again, he came up under her arm, caught her wrist at the elbow, and kicked her in the back of the knee. It spilled her backward onto the bed on her face and he rolled her arm up between her shoulders and took the gun from her weakened grip.

On her face, Jill whimpered in defeat.

"I'll take you on a mission, Jill. I will, but not until you're ready. You've been relying on false strength for a long time. You need to get back to your own body. You need to remember your limitations."

Into the mattress, she moaned, "I hate you."

He laughed and headed for the door, "I'm sure you do. Doesn't mean I'm not right."

As he reached the door, she warned him, "This isn't the end, Kennedy."

"Kiddo, it never is. Eventually, you're gonna realize what the rest of the worlds already figured out, Jill."

"...what's that?"

"I don't ever give up."

What he didn't realize? Neither did she.

She grabbed the alarm clock off his nightstand and chucked it at his back as moved. It hit him between the shoulder blades hard enough he stumbled into the wall. Before he could recover, she kicked him in the ass and he went reeling into the hallway.

She grabbed for the gun, he grabbed her wrist and jerked, and she spilled against his front.

Leon commanded, softly, "Stop. Now."

"No!" She snapped at him, "I want out of here! Now!"

She stamped on his foot and had pain shooting up his leg. He jerked on her arms behind her back and made her gasp. "Stop, Jill. Now."

And she spit in his face.

Later, he'd think maybe it wasn't the best response he could have had. What happened next though, it might have been a long time coming. He picked her up against his front while she shrieked like a banshee.

She yelped in rage as he backed them into the bedroom, sat down on the bed, and threw her over his lap on her belly. Before she could even predict it, he brought his hand down against her ass in a solid whack. Her yoga pants were useless. They didn't even cushion the blow.

Hoarsely, she squealed, "You son of a _bitch!"_

"You have no one to blame but yourself, Jill. You didn't leave me any option here." His hand spanked her again. And again. And once more when she squirmed.

She was a prisoner in this place getting spanked like an errant child. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

"Say you're sorry."

"No!" She wailed it.

He struck her again, flat handed, _thwack. _

Her eyes filled with tears of stifled rage. "I'm gonna cut your hand off and shove it up your ass!"

"I don't think so." He spanked her again when she tried to get away. "Say sorry, Jill, and I'll stop."

"Fuck you _Leonard!_"

He spanked her on the other cheek and she jerked. Her groin brushed against his knee. She froze, eyes wide, as he demanded, "Are you sorry?"

"Never!" She twisted her hips, his hand came down and hit her, her groin brushed his knee again - and her belly quivered. Oh.

Oh.

That was why she was so mad. Some horrible, stupid, ridiculous part of her...kinda liked the spanking. Jesus. She was so fucked up she was enjoying being punished. It was almost comic.

"How about now? You sorry yet?"

Oh, she was, she soooo was but not at all for the reasons he thought. Testing herself, she bellowed, "No! You nasty pervert! You jealous that you couldn't spit in my face instead?"

Leon snorted, "Don't be disgusting, Bill. It's not lady like." He rolled his eyes. Then he spanked her again.

Jill gasped. Her body jerked. She felt a shiver in her belly again.

Damn.

_Damn._

She wasn't dead after all. She could still feel that little spark of need inside. It made her hate him for bringing it back from the dead. So she shouted, "FINE! I'm sorry! You fucking brute! Put me down!"

Leon dumped her on the bed while she grunted. "That will teach you a lesson, Jill. I'm not gonna beat you...but you keep this up? I'm gonna end up spanking your ass raw until you stop fighting me."

He turned on his heel and left the room. On the bed, face down, Jill shivered.

She was disgusted with herself. She was disgusted with him, but she was already planning her next escape.

* * *

**-October 31st, 2009-**

* * *

To his great surprise, Jill enjoyed Halloween. She dressed up when given the option - like Lara Croft from Tomb Raider- and gave out candy to children.

When he'd asked her if she objected to his hosting a Halloween party, she'd been relieved to have other people in the place.

So his apartment was filled with unfamiliar faces at every turn, but she responded with aplomb.

She was charming and delightful and friendly.

She laughed at him in his Dante costume from Devil May Cry even as he quipped, "At one time...I didn't need the wig. so I had to reinvent myself as the one from DMC."

Her brows arched and he informed her, "...that's wildly considered AU, Jill."

Mouth twitching, she joked, "...you are a complete dork, Kennedy. It's got to be painful."

"Just like every minute with you, kiddo."

And she laughed.

Chris arrived and Jill spent the evening avoiding him. He finally cornered her on the balcony while people were inside dancing to Monster Mash. "You can't avoid me forever, Jill."

She tilted her head at him, "No?" He hadn't even bothered to dress up. That was Chris. Too lazy to even enjoy the holiday. "I don't want to see you. Ever. Get that through your head. I hate you."

He laughed and shook his head, "No, you don't. You hate me for saving you. That's what this is."

"Saving me?" Her voice rose in wry amusement, "Really? Putting me on house arrest with Kennedy as my jailor. That's saving me?"

"He's not a bad guy. His sense of humors a little...odd, but he's alright."

Jill laughed angrily, "He's a drunk! And a jerk! And...ugly!" Ok. None of those things were true, but she wasn't going for honest here, "He's awful. I'm not a fucking traitor, Chris. I don't deserve this!"

He lifted his hand at her to keep her quiet, "I know that, goddamnit, but it was this or the electric chair."

"Then give me the chair." She jabbed her finger into his chest, "It's gotta be better than being someone's slave."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Slave? Really? You seem alright to me. You fucking him? I heard it doesn't take him long to get in a girl's pants. You spreading your legs for him too?"

Jill laughed now, eyes flashing, "None of your business, jackass. And like you care. I was your beard for years, honey, who'd you use when I was gone. Claire? And why don't we talk about the rumors about you too."

He gave her a dirty look, "Knock yourself out."

"How's the pool of new recruits lookin?" She tilted her head, "I heard you like them young and fresh. That pretty one in there, he keeps staring at you like the sun sets outta your ass, Chris. You fucking that kid? And you wanna judge me for the same?"

He stepped back from her, "Don't be stupid, Jill. You're not his prisoner anymore than you were Wesker's."

Her heart lurched. She froze. After a handful of painful seconds, she whispered, "...what did you say?"

"You were always his favorite, Jill. Always. Tell me it's not true. Tell me you weren't his puppet and his plaything. Say it. Make me believe it."

Her hands trembled as she lifted her finger at him, "...get out. Get the hell outta here. Before I show you what he taught me."

Chris backed up, shaking his head, "Rumors, Jill...sometimes they're lies. Sometimes they're true. I guess it depends on what we choose to believe."

She turned away from him to stare out into the dark and whispered, "Don't call me again."

"Done."

The door whooshed closed. She gripped the banister and bared down, feeling her pain push into the metal like she'd channel it all through steel and find peace beneath it. He didn't believe in her either.

There was no one on Earth that believed her.

She was all alone.

She could just climb up on the railing now and end it.

Just one step up and a leg over an-

"I'm about to stifle in there. All those fucking people. What the hell was I thinking?"

Leon stepped up beside her. Jill closed her eyes against the pain and centered herself. She was trembling. He glanced at her stiff jaw and closed eyes and offered her the drink in his hands.

Without a word, she threw it back in a single flash of burning pain. It helped. The second that spicy liquor hit her belly, it helped.

She handed the glass back and closed her hands, squeezing hard. He leaned his elbows on the railing beside her. They both watched a cloud slip over the moon.

And she said, "It's a nice night."

Without answering, he shifted his left hand over and gripped her wrists where she'd clasped her hands. He squeezed, just once, and for that brief moment, she didn't feel so alone anymore.

As he turned away, she murmured, "Maybe we could have a rematch later."

Softly, Leon told her, "Anytime, Valentine. Anytime."

Jill kept standing out there in the moonlight until the last person had left the apartment.

* * *

**-November 11th, 2009-**

* * *

Her heart was pounding as she raced across the park. She knew she had about an eighth of a mile before the collar kicked in. She could hear the pound of his feet as he chased her. He was too close.

She'd kicked him square in the chest as she'd leaped off the swing in the park. She wasn't sure what it was that made her panic when he said nice things to her. She only knew that when she felt the strangest urge to enjoy his company, she was hit with a nearly frightening urge to run.

She'd kicked him clean off his feet and sent him rolling. She'd landed and was already running before he could even get up.

He'd been nice enough to take her out as she'd asked. She'd been so well behaved that he'd relented. And this was what he got, he thought angrily as he raced after her, she kicked him right in the fucking chest.

Jill hit the edge of the running path and cut left, half climbing up the grassy knoll there toward the covered bridge. She raced toward it, caught her boot in the railroad tie that was barely level, and went to her hands and knees. Scrambling, she was barely to her feet when his arm wrapped around her waist and slung her up against him.

She shouted, he covered her mouth with his hand, and he threw her against the wall of the covered bridge, keeping his hand over her mouth and panting heavily as he grunted, "Shut up. Do you hear me?! Shut up. So help me god, if I take my hand away and you scream..."

Behind his palm, she taunted, "What?! You'll hit me!? Fucking tough guy."

The rage on his face was scary. It made her heartthrob and pound with...what? Fear? Was she afraid of him? No...and yes. She wanted to get the hell away from him. She hated him.

His free hand punched into the wall beside her head and made her jump as he sneered, "Stop testing me, Jill. I mean it. Stop running. Stop _pushing _me!"

"...or what? What will you do? Nothing. Coward."

He grabbed her around the throat, making her pulse beat wildly, as his face said he was desperately searching for patience. So she went ahead and took that from him too, "Yeah...nothing. You can't do anything to me. So let me _go."_

He grabbed her wrist, surprising her, and jerked her into step behind him. She stumbled, spitting at him, "Stop pulling me, asshole!"

She was too late to realize where they were going. He opened the door to the emergency shed built off the side of the bridge and slung her inside. He wasn't gentle. She tripped on the workbench there and nearly fell on her face.

"You fucking bully!"

Without a word, he grabbed her by the back of her shirt and shoved her over his lap. She thought - _you have got to be kidding me. _

He wasn't. He spanked her while she shouted, "ASSHOLE!"

Her damn yoga pants. Why couldn't he give her a pair of jeans!? This was why, clearly. It wouldn't hurt to get humiliated in jeans. She bit his side and sputtered angrily when she just got a mouth full of his coat.

_Thwack. _"We can do this all day, every day, Jill."

"Fuck off!"

_Thwack. "_It can stop any time you want."

"I'd rather _die _than give up! LET ME GO!"

_Thwack. _"Stop fighting me, Jill."

And she shouted, "This is like being struck by a _girl_!"

That was it. He was done. He jerked her pants down, shocking her, and delivered three hard smacks right to her bare butt. She gasped, shocked and amazed he'd done it, and it stung enough to make her eyes tear up.

"How about that? Manly enough for ya?"

Her belly seized up in a way that made her feel angry and excited. Damn him! She snarled, eyes bright and wet, "...I _hate _you."

He shrugged. "Not here to make friends. You done fighting me?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. He couldn't stop the laugh. He brought his hand down hard enough on her ass to make her jump, gasp with pain, and - moan. She froze.

He froze. His hand slid against her stinging bottom in a way that echoed on both their faces before he removed it as if she'd burned him.

To cover the horrible moment, she started jerking around like a landed fish. "ALRIGHT! Let me go, you pretty-faced princess! Jesus!"

He let her roll off his lap to the floor. His mouth was dry as he rose to his feet. "Not Jesus, sweetheart, but I'm as close to god as you're gonna get. This can be easy or hard, Jill. Your choice."

Her belly seized up again. Her teeth flashed in a sneer. He turned away from her and they both had the same look of panic on their faces.

Whatever this was here - it wasn't going to end well.

Apparently, the only way she could feel anything was to make him punish her. It was the stuff therapists _lived _for. It was sick. It was twisted. It was...something she could control. Testing him. Pushing him. She could control it. In a way, he was the one who was cuffed.

He wasn't going to beat the shit out of her.

He was trying to use humiliation to gain her capitulation.

Somehow it was reminding her she was still alive. It was the first time in history that spanking began to help someone to heal.


	6. No Hope6

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Six: A Position of Submission**

* * *

**Winter**

**December 1st, 2009**

* * *

_Thwack._

_Thwack._

_Thwack._

The sound echoed. It was a familiar one these days. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why Jill was constantly challenging him. She refused to eat breakfast. She refused to get dressed. She wouldn't bathe. She wouldn't talk.

She shouted obscenities while he was on the phone and wrecked his work station.

She took all the food out of the pantry and threw it off the balcony.

If he didn't know any better, he'd think she'd lost her fucking mind.

She lay on the bed as he rose, breathing sharp and fast on her face. The bottom of her bubble butt cheeks that poked out of her short was pink from the punishment. She shifted just enough that he caught a glimpse of the blue of her panties inside those shorts.

Damnit.

He shifted. He didn't like himself for it, but he looked. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't a eunuch. He had a dick. He had balls. And Jill? She had an ass the belonged on a stripper pole. Additionally, he'd just finished spanking her.

He wasn't made out of steel. It was shameful, but he kinda liked spanking her sometimes. She wiggled, she gasped, she turned pink in the face. He paused, considering, she didn't actually try to get away anymore either.

Maybe he was crazy, but he was starting to wonder if she liked it too.

Leon felt the almost overwhelming urge to put his hand down and rub her butt under those shorts where she lay.

Instead, he turned on his heel and left the bedroom. Panicking a little, he tucked into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning fully against it. Ok. OK. This was backfiring. He'd lost control somewhere here. He hadn't had a woman in a long time. That's all this was. It was harmless. She had a fantastic ass. Striking it was eventually going to make him a little excited, right? He wasn't a freak.

He was just using a tactic to get her under control. That's it.

He was trying to get her to stop acting out, but this was making it worse. Maybe he needed to change tactics. Reaching down, he adjusted his stiff dick to try to conceal it as he stepped out of the bathroom.

"Jill?"

The door to the bedroom was shut. He eased it open to peek inside.

She was curled on her side on the bed. He felt a small roll of guilt. He was thinking maybe he'd really hurt her.

He started to say something to her and he noticed she was squirming just a little. Her hands were tucked between her legs. He froze. His breath caught. He backed away from the door and leaned on the wall outside it.

She wasn't in there moaning in pain.

She was in there moaning in pleasure.

He didn't need to be standing over her to know she was touching herself.

Jesus god. This couldn't possibly end well. His mouth was dry.

He didn't go in the room, but he didn't move from the wall beside the door either. He stood there and listened.

* * *

**December 25th, 2009**

* * *

"Aren't you going home for the holidays?"

Leon glanced up from the report he was reading. Jill was padding into the kitchen in a soft white sweater and leggings. Christmas day had started with her waking at three a.m. to a panic attack.

He'd played the piano until she fell asleep on the floor and he'd carried her back to her bed.

When he'd woken just before dawn, she'd been lying on the carpet beside the couch where he'd slept. It took him a moment to realize she'd cuffed herself to his arm that was dangling on the floor.

She'd cuffed herself to him instead of her own bed in the corner.

It seemed insane, but he knew that was an enormous gesture of faith on her part.

He didn't want to leave her in the care of a handler on the biggest holiday of the year. He'd left her for an hour on Thanksgiving under the care of three agents and come back to a wrecked bedroom.

She'd reacted like some kind of animal with separation anxiety. They'd finally sedated her and secured her to the bed.

When she'd awoken, he'd been standing the doorway. Softly, she'd whispered, "...you came back."

With a shiver in his chest, he'd answered coldly, "Yeah. You miss me?"

"...fuck off."

"You wrecked my room, princess. The lamp you fucked up? Cost me a fortune."

"Cry me a river money bags, I'm sure you'll conjure up another one with your piles of riches."

"Don't test me, Jill. I've had a long fucking day. Just shut up."

She'd given him a dirty look. "Oh, yeah? Hard day with the Senator, huh? Did you have to pull that silver spoon out of your mouth long enough to eat the shit he shovels on you?"

Without another word, he'd walked into the dirty bedroom and she'd licked her dry lips, taunting him, "So let me go. Let me go and I'll shut my fucking mouth."

He'd uncuffed her and thrown her over his shoulder. She'd fought him, trying to knee him in the belly. He'd carried her into the kitchen and right out onto the balcony before he'd dumped her over his lap.

The second she landed, she stopped fighting him.

He'd spanked her until they were both breathing hard before he'd dumped her on the ground and she'd crawled away. With his fists clenched, he'd closed his eyes against the sound of her ragged panting.

Jill, sitting inside against the wall, started to wonder when she'd began to look forward to being punished. Was this who she was now? Some pervert created in pain and birthed again in pleasure?

Jesus.

They never spoke of it. Why would they?

Even now, she was looking at him with hatred. He wondered if that would ever change.

If they stayed here, she'd set him off and he'd throw her over his lap to punish her. They both knew it. They were trying to kill each other in more ways than one. So he said, "...let's take a walk, Jill."

He rose. She watched him head into the room to get his coat. Her lip rolled under.

It was perverse to push at him until he hurt her. It was. She didn't need a shrink to tell her that...but he didn't really hurt her. He never hit her hard enough to hurt her. He hit her just hard enough to...what?

Excite them both.

He never touched her. At first, she'd worried he'd follow up the spanking by trying to fuck her. She'd been terrified for weeks until she realized he wasn't going to touch her like that.

Then? She'd started doing things just to set him off. They trained. They argued. Once a week, she tried to escape. They played video games and cooked dinner...and he spanked her.

It was stupid. It was insanity.

As he came out of the bedroom with her coat, Jill felt her thighs quiver in excitement. She knew when they got downtown, she was going to do something stupid to set him off. She was going to see how far she could push him in public.

In a strange way, it was the most control she'd ever had - the ability to drive him to madness that matched hers was an addiction.

She climbed into the back of the taxi beside him trembling from more than the cold.

There was some measure of control in provoking him. She did it, at first, to see if he'd let her go out of frustration. Then, to see if she could provoke him to violence and get away from him based on some technicality.

Now? She did it because she enjoyed pushing him. She liked knowing he had limits. He absolutely would not hurt her. He'd sting her pride and her bottom and sear her ears with words...but he wouldn't hurt her.

She hit him. She wrecked his world. She provoked and pushed and played games with him until he was nearly ready to kill her - but he never hurt her. Somehow, she'd begun to realize that he seemed to like the back and forth they had.

Maybe they were both fucked up.

The taxi let them out into the first chill of the coming snow. Jill shivered as they tucked their hands into their pockets and started walking. The evening twilight was pretty on the horizon - purple and pink and pastel as if it were the inside of an Easter egg- but the rolling edge of red was blood on a perfect picture. The sun sank, sending swirling tendrils of bright vermillion over the canvas of the sky.

He stopped to get a coffee from a street vendor and light up a cigarette. She heard him chat with the man about the shitty nature of working on the holidays. The vendor remarked, "I ain't got no family anyway, man. So what diff, ya know?"

Leon returned, "I hear ya. Fuck the holidays."

"I hear that." The vendor reached over and they did that thing men were known for where they bumped fists.

Leon gave him a huge tip and told him, "Either way...Happy Christmas, Jim."

"You too, brother."

As he turned back, Jill was watching him. The street lamp on her face showed an expression of contemplation. He arched a brow, "What?"

"...men." She even used his tone and imitated his voice when she said it.

Eyes twinkling with amusement, he chuckled. He handed her the coffee. She took it and warned him, "...I have a knife in my boot."

Leon froze with the cigarette halfway to his lips. He blew out the smoke in his mouth and shook his head. His profile was half-wry amusement, half-complete irritation. "...goddamnit, Jill. Why?"

She shifted. "You left it by the pool. I pick it up. I've been hiding it under the mattress."

"For?"

She shrugged, "To force you to let me go, maybe. I don't know."

He nodded and inhaled on the cigarette again. They were both watching the lights twinkling on the big tree in Rockefeller Center. Finally, he told her, "So run."

In surprise, she queried, "What?"

"Run. Pull the knife and run. I won't stop you."'

She gave him a narrow look, "What's your game here?"

"No game. It's Christmas. It's my gift to you. See how far you can run."

"...take the collar off."

He gave her a sad look, "You know I can't. I don't have the authority to do that."

Angry, she shoved him in the chest and had his eyes flaring, "So what good are you? I run, you chase me down, you catch me and bring me back. I stab you with this knife. What then?"

"...I can turn you over. Any time you want, I can turn you over to the government. If that's what you want."

Jill felt her belly quiver. If she did that, it would mean she'd be at the mercy of powers greater than Kennedy. She'd been put in a box and studied or kept in a cage and ignored...or killed. They'd torture her under the Patriot Act for information.

And she'd never see him again.

Why did the resonate in a way she didn't like? She hated him. She didn't care if he was knifed in the parking lot right now and left for dead. She'd let him bleed out in the snow.

Jill tugged the knife from her boot. Leon sipped his coffee and flicked his cigarette. He didn't even bother to look at her.

Almost half-heartedly, she jammed the knife at his ribs while the music from the park twinkled prettily around them. O'Holy Night, he was pretty sure, giving its blessings to the beauty of the holiday.

The horror set in quick for her because he didn't stop her. He was a good as his word. He just let her do it. The knife into his side, he grunted in pain and dropped his coffee, and Jill let out a sound of shock.

She grabbed his shoulders as he hunched forward. "You idiot! What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Leon started to lift his cigarette to his mouth and she knocked it out of his hand, "Stop that! You stupid..._man!"_

It was the worst insult she could think of at the moment. He groaned in pain and gave her a quirk of his lips, "A man of my word, Valentine...cheap shot received...Feliz Navidad, right?"

Jill jerked the knife out of his side as he gasped and shoved her hand over his jacket as the blood seeped onto her fingers. He gave her a narrow look and invited, "...go. Go on. Run. I'm wounded. Run, now. It's what you want, right? Run for it."

Without a word, she grabbed the front of his jacket in her other hand and yelled for a cab. He let her tug him into the back of the cab and bark to the cabby to take them to the hospital.

Leon shook his head, "Nope. Paper trail. Too many questions. I can treat myself."

Jill gave him a look like he was an idiot but barked out the address for his building instead.

Twenty minutes later, she had him sitting on the sink in his bathroom treating his wound. She hadn't said a word. He just kept looking at her as she moved around the bathroom.

Without his shirt, it was worse than she'd thought. He was all fucked up. A pretty face above a painfully scarred torso. On the video feed in the pool, the lighting and the water had obscured it. Here in the overhead light, she could see every mark.

A curl of scars above his left nipple. A rope of thick ones down his side where the knife had pierced him. What looked like a scattershot of circles up his right shoulder. He had a heavy tendril of them near the corner of his neck on his back. She felt her fingers trickle down them as she kept the pressure on his side.

Gently, he told her, "...shock rod."

Jill nodded. Her fingers touched above his spine at the waistline of his jeans. Still pink, steal healing the ones that looped around his hip and ended at his belly button. Something had tried to rip him in half.

So he told her, "Licker. I jumped, he got me in midswing, my own damn momentum ripped his claws through my side. Sadly for him, it also got him a knife in the skull as I swung back around."

Her eyes moved up to his face. He was looking at the mirror across from them. He wasn't even looking at her.

She bound the gauze to his ribs and taped it down. As she came around the front of him, she finally spoke, "Why do you keep doing it? It's going to kill you."

Leon''s gaze shifted to her face. He shrugged, looking pensive, "Probably, but does it matter? If it makes a difference, isn't it worth it?"

Jill touched the side of his neck, "What's this from?"

"...Saddler. I wasn't fast enough."

"And this?" She touched just below his nipple.

"That's from a woman actually. Turns out, women like to stab me."

Jill shook her head, giving him an exasperated look. "You're stupid. Retire. Get out of this life, now. Today. Get married and have children and stop being so fucking brave before it gets you killed."

His mouth turned up into a half-smile, "...you first, kiddo."

Jill tilted her head at him. She jerked up the heavy white sweater she wore. The scars on her chest were terrible. Raw and red and inflamed. "This is what it looks like when you lose. Ugly right? He slapped a fucking scarab on my chest to control me. If I could go back...I'd do it. I'd make another choice and never, ever join S.T.A.R.S. It doesn't matter, Kennedy. What we do? It doesn't make a fucking difference. It just leaves us all scarred and broken. You have a choice here...make it, and get out."

As she started to lower the sweater, he grabbed it in his fist and dragged her forward. Surprised, she let him jerk it up over her head. He looked so angry. Why?

His angry blue gaze flicked to her face as he touched one of the scars above her left breast. She panicked, grabbing his hand, "Don't! Don't touch them!"

To her continued surprise, he grabbed her and almost hurt her tossing her on the counter as he slid off. Without a word, he grabbed peroxide and dumped it on a piece of gauze...and he started cleaning her chest wounds.

Into the heavy silence, she whispered, "...stop it."

Leon shook his head at her and almost snarled, "They're infected, Jill. These damn things? You've let them get infected. You want to get sick over it? Why haven't you been cleaning them?"

She shrugged, fascinated by the rage on his face. Why was he so mad? "Who cares? If I die, at least I won't be a prisoner anymore. Who's gonna miss me anyway? Ive been dead for three years."

Leon shook his head in anger and hissed in sympathy, "It's a mess. I'm gonna have to open them up to clean the infection out."

"No!" Horrified, she slapped at his hands, "No! You won't touch them. Leave them be! They're disgusting! I want them to stay that way."

Confused, he glanced at her face, "Why?"

"So I never forget."

Jesus.

His guts rolling in sympathy, Leon shook his head. "I'm not gonna let you die of a blood infection to prove a point, Jill. That's stupid."

"We can start a club then. It must be transmitted in the air living here with you."

"I'm cleaning them."

She slapped his hands away again, "I said no, Kennedy! No means no!"

Leon rolled his eyes, "Fuck your no."

Her belly seized. "...you fucking bully."

"I think we've covered this ground before." He grabbed her when she tried to run. She kicked toward his balls and he threw her over his shoulder.

Shrieking, Jill bit down hard into his side. He grunted, dumped her into the bathtub, and turned on the water on her head.

She screamed, fighting and sputtering, and in the ensuing madness, he cuffed her hands above her head to the faucet. She cursed him as he shut off the water and left her wet in the tub while he gathered supplies.

"I'll scream until your ears bleed."

"You won't." He knelt beside the tub. "If you do, I'll gag you."

Seething, Jill stared hard at the windows that looked out into the city. She hissed when he opened her infected wounds. She sneered when he cleaned them and drained them. It hurt. It stung. Her eyes teared up.

She gasped when he secured bandages over her chest.

She said nothing when he bathed off the blood on her ribs and belly.

When she ignored him, he grabbed her chin to jerk it back to him, "You let this happen again and I'll use a sedative on you to clean them every day. I mean it, Jill."

She gave him the finger where her hands were bound.

"Don't test me, Jill. I've had enough of it."

"Have you? I haven't even started."

The rage was thick between them. His fingers dug into the delicate place where her jaw met her neck. She drew a sharp breath and her eyes flashed daggers. "Freak. You like hurting me? Does it get you hard?"

His lip curled up, "Stop pushing me, Jill. You will not win. Why are you making this so goddamn hard?!"

"You think you can fix me, you asshole? You think you can control me? So did he! He _failed _and so will you! You aren't man enough to control me!"

Jesus. He felt that hit him in the balls. He grabbed a handful of her hair and had her hissing as she snarled, "I don't want to control you, Jill. I'm trying to help you! STOP FIGHTING ME! Do you understand me?"

She spit in his face.

Of course, she did.

It slid down his chin while she flashed her teeth in a wolfish smile. "Understand _that_."

He watched her chest rise and fall. She was panting. She was trembling. Cold? He glanced at the wounds on her chest and he was very aware of her nipples poking against the soft cups of her bra.

She was cold.

That was all.

He rose and left the bathroom before he gave in to the urge to drag her out of the tub and turn her over his lap. Shit. It was a bad thing to enjoy sparring with her. It was bad. It was stupid.

It couldn't end well.

He returned and tossed a blanket over her in the tub. She shouted, angrily, "'Seriously!? Let me out of here!"

"Goodnight, Valentine. Sleep tight. If you need to take a piss, it'll go right down the drain."

"...I fucking hate you!"

"Ditto, kiddo."

"You are just like him!"

His teeth flashed as he laughed, "Maybe part of you wishes that was true. Miss him, do ya, Jill? Maybe he was your sugar daddy after all."

"Fuck _you!"_

"I'm started to wonder if that's exactly what you want me to do. See you in the morning, sweetheart."

He left the bathroom. He leaned on the wall and listened to her wiggle and curse. He went to the kitchen to get a bottle of whiskey.

He drank until it buried the urge to go back in that bathroom and find out why her nipples were hard.

She was right - he was turning into a freak. He should give her back. He should turn her in. Maybe she was right, maybe there was no helping her. Maybe she was too far gone. What was the right move here?

In the tub, Jill trembled. Was he right? Was there some perverted part of her that missed Wesker's control?

Did she want to see how far she could push Kennedy until he really hurt her? Hell, he'd had so many chances. He just kept giving her another one to prove herself.

At what point, did she begin to accept the fact that he was _good. _He wasn't trying to fuck her or force her or...free her. He wasn't going to free her. So he wasn't a saint either.

She shivered from the wet and the warm surge in her belly. The more she'd started to wish he'd turn her over his knees, the more she'd panicked and shouted and pushed him away. Jesus. She was a mess.

She was torn between wanting to run screaming and have him punish her for it and curling up in the tub in shame and horror.

He wanted to save her. From what? Herself? She was beyond that. She was hopeless. Why did he keep trying!?

She heard him drinking in the living room. She felt the panic start to make her body shake.

And then he started to play.

Her eyes closed. Two tears slipped down her cheeks.

She'd been awful to him. She'd taunted and tortured and stabbed him...and he was out there playing for her.

She laid in the tub and was wet with water and soaked in guilt.

When the song drew to a close, she called softly, "...Kennedy? Are you out there?"

She heard him shift over to the spot beside the door. He didn't answer her, but she knew he was there. So she added, "...can you-maybe just sit there? Until...I fall asleep?"

He emerged into the bathroom. He caught the cuffs at the faucet and undid them, freeing her hands. She rose to sit in the tub as he reached for a towel and tossed it over her.

Clutching it, Jill watched him head toward the door and stepped out of the tub. She went into her bedroom and changed into dry clothing. She sat in her corner and pulled the pillow into her lap.

As she started to rock in place, he appeared in the bedroom again. He sat down against the opposite wall and faced her where she rocked. She felt her eyes fill again and murmured, "...I'm a fucking mess."

He held her gaze and he didn't look pitying. He just looked resolute. He answered, "I'll keep watch. Get some sleep, Jill."

She twisted her lips. She closed her eyes. When that didn't work, she crawled over the carpet toward him. He felt his pulse skip as she settled against the wall beside him. Her hands slid against his belt, she tugged the cuffs there free and put one on her wrist and snapped the other to his.

Jill tucked the pillow against her chest and shifted, just a tiny bit, until her head rested against his shoulder.

He sat there in the dark listening to her, cuffed to her, and knew she wasn't the only mess in this room.


	7. No Hope7

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Trust, Touch, and Torture**

* * *

**Spring**

**-March 11th, 2010-**

* * *

"The truth is that Jill is doing better than I'd expected."

Dr. George Hamilton was sitting at the table surrounded by other members of the board. "Whatever Director Kennedy is doing, it's working. She was almost catatonic with fear when she first started seeing me. Now? She's made great strides toward a healthy recovery. She speaks, without prompting, she shares things about her feelings and her phobias. She's progressing. She's still suffering from some evidence of a split personality in a way..."

He trailed off and had Leon narrowing his eyes at him, so he clarified, "To handle what happened to her, Jill appears to be channeling her feelings into a rage that's nearly separate from her typical state. Without proper management, it has the potential to take on a life of its own. I won't divulge private information from our sessions, but I'll say that it's likely she used the rage as a safe space for her during her confinement and subsequent torture."

Quietly, Chris spoke from his place at the other end of the table, "You agree she was tortured?"

"Oh, without a doubt. It's my understanding that we have some video footage obtained from closed-circuit television in Mauti Kifo?"

The attention turned to the enormous television on the wall as George added, "Even without visual evidence, I believe that Jill was tortured and coerced into any malevolence she might have performed. She has tremendous, nearly crippling guilt over it. Although I can't say, directly, that she was drugged and controlled...I can say that her actions may very likely have been guided by a force greater than herself."

The grainy footage began to play. It showed men surrounding another on the ground as they kicked him where he was half-covered in a heavy shroud. Aloud, George narrated, "This is what's traditionally called a blanket party. It's a method of control and punishment used in large groups such as this to subvert members."

The narrow street exposed a burnt-out car and the hollowed shell of a crumbling building. As the blanket party continued, three figures emerged from the shadows by the hollow structure.

It was easy to see it was Excella Gionne.

And Chris clarified the man in the video, "...Irving." He almost spat it.

George nodded, "Yes. Ricardo Irving. He was a henchman of Albert Wesker for quite some time we understand."

The third member of the triumvirate was a struggling Jill. She was in a tank top and torn shorts. She was jerking wildly against the control of Irving until Excella delivered a solid set of slaps to her face. Jill seemed to shrink in on herself as they dragged her toward the struggle in the middle of the road.

One of them spotted them and started shouting. It quickly escalated to a battle of voices.

Irving threw Jill at the man and she was backhanded so hard it spilled her to the ground on her hands and knees. As she tried to crawl away, Excella pulled her to her knees and spoke into her face.

Jill shook her head: no.

She was slapped twice across her already bleeding mouth.

Still, she resisted: no.

Irving stepped up from the side and grabbed Jill by her long ponytail. He jerked her head back and licked her face like a dog. She tried to elbow him in the crotch and he stuck the cigar in his other hand into her shoulder.

You didn't need sound to hear her scream. While she fought against him, he shoved that cigar into her arm again and again. The bend of her elbow, the curve of her bicep, the base of her wrist. She slapped his face and had him reeling.

Irving stuck the cigar into the side of her throat.

Chris shoved back the from table, "That son of a _bitch!"_

Jill recoiled on the video and one of the other men in the street grabbed her around the waist while she tried to run. He carried her over and tossed her on her back on the ground. She screamed. She kicked.

She took out two of her attackers in a flurry of fighting that was impressive, but it didn't matter. As she kicked a third one in the balls, she jerked like a landed fish. She grabbed at her head and screamed. She tumbled to her face in the dirt and the blanket from the dead man in the dirt was thrown over her.

And they all started kicking her.

The video feed cut out.

The table was silent.

George spoke first, "I believe Jill Valentine was tortured like this - and worse than this- for the three years she was in captivity. I believe she was broken down and brainwashed and used as a weapon. I believe she did nothing but try to escape."

Finally, the man in the red tie at the head of the table returned, "It might be true, doctor, but against her will or not - she is responsible for over three hundred deaths. It's a testament to how valuable she's been to the organization that she wasn't put to death immediately for treason. Her value now is only determined by her willingness to cooperate in assisting in bringing down all facets of Albert Wesker's residual organization. The question is this - will she work for us, or against us?"

George tapped his fingers on the table before he answered, "I believe she is a patriot. I believe she will do the right thing without question...but I think the only reason there's enough of her left to salvage is because somehow, someway...she's' found a way to bond herself to a captor that isn't attempting to subjugate or use her."

Leon kept his face blank as the eyes shifted to him. Chris? He looked grateful.

George addressed him directly, "Her loyalty is like nothing I've never seen, Director Kennedy. You have somehow managed to finagle some humanity out of her very broken shell. Whatever you're doing? It's working. I think with continued therapy and isolation with you...she's got a real chance of coming back from this as some version of her former self."

George wanted him to keep her. He wanted him to keep her there, in his apartment, without the rest of the world. He wanted him to continue caring for her and helping her and watching her. Somehow...he was saving her without knowing how.

Leon licked his dry lips and cleared his throat, "I agree."

The man in the tie rose, "It's settled then. We will reconvene in six months to determine further course of action. Director Kennedy, for the time being, you will remain in the position of administration regarding the DSO and on administrative leave regarding fieldwork. For the function of her detainment, Jill Valentine will continue to be considered a potential asset and governed by an electronic monitoring device. She is to be protected, as well as controlled, and the BSAA will assume command of the fieldwork in the interim."

So Chris Redfield got Leon's missions, and Leon got his mess.

The world, it seemed, would always be distinctly unfair.

As he was headed to the door, Chris caught his elbow to take him aside. They stared at each other until Chris spoke first, "...thank you. You didn't have to take her. You didn't have to help her. I know...I know she's angry with me. I know I deserve it. I said somethings-it doesn't matter. Thank you. I don't know what I can do to repay you."

Leon gave him a narrow look and returned, "Start fucking believing in her. She's earned it."

He turned toward the elevators surprised at himself. When had he started to believe in her? Somewhere between burns and battles and broken souls. He'd awoken that morning to find she'd cuffed herself to him again. She'd cuffed herself to his wrist and was sleeping on the floor beside the couch.

He'd seen the burns up and down her arm. He was aware of them. It hadn't crossed his mind that they were cigar burns.

That was such a small part of what they'd done to her. What else had she survived? He wondered if she'd ever talk about it.

Jill was cuffed to ring on a table in an interrogation room waiting. As Leon opened the door to the room, she spat, "What's the ruling Caesar? Is it death for me?"

Leon said nothing. He moved around the table and uncuffed her from the ring on the table. He turned her hands over in one of his and looked down at the burns on her arm. He was so quiet that she shifted uncomfortably on the seat. "...what?"

He didn't speak to her. He simply unlocked the cuffs on her wrist and rose, looping them over his belt.

Jill sat frozen until he finally said, "Come on. Let's go home."

It was her turn to say nothing. She followed him out of the room in shocked silence. She stayed a step behind as they headed toward the exit.

She might have tried to run, maybe, but he was so quiet. She was a little worried about it. What had happened in that conference room?

Something clattered loudly in the cafeteria as they passed it. Jill grasped a fist into his jacket at the ruckus. He knew she was panicking being out in public with so many people, especially in the headquarters of the DSO like she was. Surrounded, like she'd said that morning, by enemies.

Behind them, Chris shouted, "Jill? Jill! Wait!"

Her voice shaking, Jill whispered desperately, "I need to get out. Please. Now."

Leon again was silent as he turned his palm down to her. She took his forearm and pressed against his back like he was a shield. He wondered if she knew what kind of gesture that was for both of them.

They reached the elevator and it was full of people avidly jumping on for a quick trip to the lower floors. It was to be a tight squeeze to get on it.

Chris called again, "Jill! Wait!"

Jill and Leon stepped on the elevator. The doors whooshed closed on Chris' apologetic face. It started downward and Jill moaned pitifully in his ear. She shook her head against his shoulder and whispered, "...I can't. Please."

He nodded. He stepped out with her when it stopped on the first floor they came to. She had his arm gripped so tight it was pulsing.

He guided her into the emergency stairwell and she stayed glued to his side and back as they went. As they stepped out of the stairwell into the cold air. Jill let out a sound of relief that was almost a sob of breath.

She leaned against the wall and let go of him, covering her face with her palms.

He watched her quiver and shake. The blue jacket she wore was plenty thick for the early spring weather, but she was shivering. It wasn't cold, it was fear.

There was the sound of a door opening and people emerged laughing and heading toward the fountain in the courtyard to each lunch and hang out. Leon, without being prompted, stepped up to cover her from their view. She turned her head enough that her forehead pressed against his leather-clad chest.

He hesitated, lifted his hand to touch her, and let it drop instead.

After a few moments of her breathing harshly, she finally tilted her face up to him. He was staring off into the distance. Quietly, she lamented, "...I'm sorry. I'm ok now."

Leon shook his head, "Don't be sorry. Take all the time you need."

Jill sniffed delicately at his neck. He smelled good - like sandalwood and amber. That was her doing. She'd ordered bath shit online and stuffed his bathroom with it. It turned out, some of it smelled pretty awesome.

Whispering, she remarked, "...I'm not free, am I?"

He shook his head no again. "...I'm sorry."

Jill felt her eyes tear up. Why? She knew why. Part of her was _relieved _by that. She stepped back from him, "Let's go. I'm ready."

Was she?

He wasn't entirely sure he was.

She didn't tuck against him as they walked through the courtyard, but she didn't leave his side either. They were just getting into the town car that would take them home when Chris' voice echoed over the distance, "Damnit, Jill! Wait! I know you can hear me!"

Jill, ignoring him, climbed into the back seat. Chris hurried toward them and Leon put a hand against his chest, stalling him, "She doesn't want to talk to you."

Surprised by the gesture, Chris arched his brows, "You stopping me?"

They held gazes in the cool morning. Leon wasn't nearly as big, but that was irrelevant. Nobody around would confuse him as a man who couldn't handle himself. He urged, quietly, "Turn around. Go back inside. I'll talk to her, but not now."

Again, Chris mused, "You're kidding, right?"

Leon shook his head. "Not now."

And the big man stepped right up in his personal space. Their noses brushed. Leon arched a brow, "Don't be stupid. Turn around. Go back inside. Unless you want to try to sit down with my foot up your ass."

Chris' teeth flashed in a grin, "On that day, I'll get out of my wheelchair and do a dance."

The car driver snorted. Geez. Even the driver was laughing at the tension.

There was a moment where Leon was pretty sure Chris was going to force the issue. He glanced at Jill's stony expression and changed his mind. Backing off, he warned, "Tell her I will call her later and she better answer."

Leon returned, "I won't make her, but I'll give her the message."

Chris volleyed his gaze over Leon's face until the other man said, "Seriously...back on up, hoss. I can see up your nose."

Chris turned away with one last glance at his former partner. Leon slid into the backseat beside Jill. They said nothing as the driver turned out onto the road.

After a handful of moments, Jill slid her hand over the seat and looped her pinky over his. They didn't look at each other, but the tension was thick and painful anyway. As the driver turned onto the highway, Jill slid two fingers up the inside of his wrist.

They settled over the pulse in his hand to feel it beat. He rolled his wrist over without looking up from the file in his other hand. Jil skimmed her fingers over his palm, touched the edge of his thumb and blended their fingers together on the seat.

He kept his hand limp and accepting. When she squeezed, just once, he returned the curl of his fingers over the back of hers. And just like that like, they were two people in the back seat of a car holding hands.

She was dangerously quiet as they headed up to the apartment. He keyed them in and she went before him, veering off into the bedroom as he brought the files in his arms into the kitchen and set them on the table. Trying to bridge the quiet, he called, "Chris seems apologetic for whatever happened at Halloween, Jill. He'd like to see you."

When she was silent, he added, "It's up to you, honestly, you don't have to do anything you don't wa-"

He stopped talking as he turned to find her standing there. Jesus, she was so quiet. It almost startled him. There was a look on her face that scared him a little.

Softly, he encouraged, "You ok?"

She shook her head. She stepped into his personal space and every alarm in his head started blaring. Pulse-pounding, he said nothing as she lifted her hands and reached for the zipper on his jacket.

The metal teeth releasing was loud in the quiet. It took a second for him to realize the harsh sound of breathing that echoed wasn't her, it was him. When the leather opened, it sighed.

That's what good leather did when it breathed. Her palm skimmed the rich buttery material, brown and old and beautiful. She touched the red tie and the gray chambray vest beneath it. She slid a finger against the collar of the dark blue shirt. The jeans, the jacket, the vest, and a tie - somehow he made casual-cool seem classy. It was his _gift _and something about him that was unlike any man she'd ever known.

Jill reached for the buttons on the vest and had his heart pounding harder. His mouth was dry. He should stop her, he knew that. He should stop her. He said nothing as she slid the three buttons through the holes and exposed the crisp dress shirt. The vest was trapped against his body by the high and low holster he wore in a beautiful camel brown.

Her fingers touched the initials etched over his resting gun and he murmured, "...my mother...after my promotion."

Touched, her eyes lifted to his face. "Your mother...you never talk about her. I just thought-"

"She was dead?" He smiled, sadly, "She is in a way. She's never been anything but something my father owned. Pretty, from a good family, a trophy wife...we used to sneak away when he thought I was at boarding school and spend weekends doing kid stuff. Theme parks..." Her hand cupped the tie and slid down it as he talked, soothing her, "White water rafting. Skiing. She was...so much more than he ever let her be."

Jill watched his mouth while he talked. He cleared his throat and his nervousness somehow made her less so. Quietly, Jill said, "I never knew much about my mother. My father met her in Tokyo while he'd been there probably robbing someone. She'd taken off not long after I was born. To avoid being saddled with a kid, he made sure I ended up a ward of the state...for my own protection."

Shit.

He got it now. A ward of the state. A soldier in the military. A cop in the force. A slave to a madman. And now a prisoner of the government. Jesus. She'd _never _been free. Not once, in her whole life.

No wonder she was fucking angry.

He wasn't sure what to say because he couldn't remember a single time since this started that she'd shared anything with him about herself. Not like this. She was _touching _him, she was _talking _to him. What had George said?

She'd bonded to him. Why?

Because something in her saw something similar in him?

Softly, Jill warned him, "I'm gonna-I need to try something. I just-I want you to let me. Will you?"

That was a loaded question. When he didn't answer right away, she explained, "It won't hurt...you. It won't hurt _you."_

What?

And then she showed him. She just...slid her arms around his waist and moved into him. She'd felt the need to warn him about a hug. Her cheek turned to lay flat against the curve of his chest. She put her ear right over his heart and listened with her eyes closed.

If she'd put her hand in his pants and started pulling his dick, he'd have been less shocked.

Unsure of what to do with his hands, he just let them hang uselessly at his sides.

Voice small, she asked, "...is this ok?"

Jesus. She had to ask if it was ok to need a fucking hug. Wherever Albert Wesker was, Leon was really hoping he was roasting in hell for all eternity with a shock rod shoved up his ass.

Gruffly, he soothed her, "It's ok, Jill. Any time. It's ok, anytime."

He meant it. He was just a man who would let her hold him. She was awful to him, hateful, cruel and taunting. She was terrible to him, and he'd let her hold him. She had no idea how to handle what he was coming to mean to her.

They were too close. It was too much. The panic seized around in her belly until she made a grab for his shoulder holster to hide the need that came with wanting to hold on.

He caught her wrist as she tried to jerk it free. His other hand caught her arm and he warned her, "...don't. Don't, Jill. It's ok. This? It's ok. Stop."

Stop.

She didn't know how to stop. She was afraid if she kept holding on, she'd want to hold on until she could breathe again. She didn't want to need anyone else in her life. Not him. Not anyone.

Ever.

The moment shimmered. Her hands trembled. She eased her right one back from his gun. He let go of her wrist slowly. When he released her arm, she backed up from him.

Leon licked his dry lips twice before he spoke, "It's ok to need a hug, Jill. I promise you."

Fuck.

She didn't want to need anything from him. She didn't want to like him or appreciate him or cling to him because the agoraphobia was so terrible it oppressed her breathing and caused her to have a panic attack.

She didn't want to need him.

Jill backed up slowly. He watched her like a cat watches a mouse. There must have been something on her face because he cautioned her, "...don't be stupid."

He hadn't closed the door to the apartment when they'd come in. Stupid, he thought wildly, stupid. He was letting her complacency make him stupid.

She glanced at the door. He put a hand out at her, "...damnit, Jill..._don't."_

She turned and ran for it. He cut around the table after her and she spun low by the door and took his feet. He tripped, smashed into the wall and she kicked him in the hip to send him reeling.

At the elevator, she went right passed it to the emergency stairs. He watched her plug the passcode into the panel and grab for the door. As she jerked it open, he caught her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder while she shouted.

She slapped his ass three times as he walked, cursing. As he kicked the door shut behind them, Leon grunted, "Goddamnit, Jill. What's it gonna take? Stop running."

In answer, she jerked up his shirt from his pants and raked her nails right up his back. She didn't take it easy. It hurt like hell. He shouted and threw her onto the couch in answer. She hit on her side and rolled for the floor as he cursed.

His hands grabbed her hair and her shirt. She slapped wildly at his face and he threw her face down on the kitchen table, kicked her feet apart to keep her off balance like a cop about to frisk her, and the files there scattered as she whipped her arms around resisting.

"Don't you dare!"

He held her down with a hand around her ponytail and brought his hand down on her ass. This time, the denim she wore insulated against it. She laughed at him, taunting. "Time to find a new punishment, hotshot. That ain't cuttin it!"

It's what she wanted, he knew it, she knew it. She took a good moment and made it something ugly that she could control. So he let her go instead.

He backed off, shaking his head, "Just go to your room, Jill. Go."

Panting on the table, she felt a tremor in her thighs and she spat, "...I can't believe what a wuss you are. I should kick your ass and be done with it."

Leon rolled his eyes and turned away, moving into the kitchen. "Who are you fooling here, Jill? You just had your arms around me. We both know exactly what you think about me."

She pushed off the table, laughing angrily, "Yeah. Not a wuss, a woman. Clearly, you're not a man. You don't flirt. You don't fuck. You don't look. You even got a dick in those designer jeans, Kennedy? Or do you only get your kicks beating the shit outta girls?"

She shoved him from behind to add insult to injuries.

He bumped into the counter and spilled the drink he was pouring himself.

She was trying to make him angry. He knew that too. It was safer, somehow, for her than feeling close to him. It was a defense mechanism. He knew not to rise to the bait.

But no guy in the world wanted to have his manhood questioned. His pride stinging, he turned toward her, "Shut up. I mean it. Go to your room and shut up."

"Why? You won't hit me. You won't hurt me. What's left? You're a eunuch, Kennedy. You don't fuck and you don't fight. You just sit there and drink yourself to death. You're pathetic."

The bottle of booze in his hand went flying. It missed her head by an inch as it struck the wall behind her. The rage of it, the shock, made her chest seize up in some kind of fear and excitement.

He advanced on her and she held her ground, resisting the urge to run. "Get the fuck outta here, Jill, now."

A warning.

A promise?

So she hissed, "Or what?"

He grabbed her throat, surprising her, and shoved her into the wall. She gasped, hitting hard enough it made her back sing, and her body trembled with expectation. She flashed her teeth, "Gonna beat me now? You won't be the first, you asshole."

There was a fine trembling of rage down his arms and hands. She watched it on his face. How far was too far here? Had she pushed too far?

He lifted his hand off her throat. He laid both of his palms flat on the wall on either side of her face. She watched him dig down for some kind of patience she couldn't even understand. His voice was hard as he told her, low and painfully, "Don't say another word. Go into your room and close the door or I will cuff you there. Enough is enough, Jill. Enough is enough."

Her breathing was ragged. Her belly was clenched tight. She wasn't scared of him. Not even a little bit. It was an enormous truth to admit. She couldn't push him to violence like that. She just couldn't.

He wasn't made that way.

He'd closed his eyes tight in some kind of bid for calm. She started to slide down the wall away from him and stopped. Her mouth tilted up. It pressed against the little cleft in his chin.

His eyes popped open as if she'd bit him instead. There was something on his face that must have been echoed in hers because he tilted his face down to her and her lips touch his with butterfly softness.

He didn't kiss her back, but he didn't move away either.

She leaned back against the wall and whispered, "...I'm so sorry."

His jaw flexed. He shook his head. He leaned down a little and she leaned up to press a kiss against his closed eyes, the place behind his left ear, the pulse in his throat. She licked her dry lips and put her hands on his face to turn it down to her a little more and kiss so, so lightly on his mouth again.

When he made a small sound of submission, she whispered once more, "...I'm sorry, Kennedy. Say it's ok."

"...look at me, Jill. My goddamn name is _Leon."_

Jill kissed his mouth again. He shifted like he'd kiss her back and she bumped into the wall in retreat, whispering, "I know what your name is...I _can't_."

What? Can't what? She didn't say. She just ran away. He should be used to that by now.

She ducked under his arm and hurried away. He listened to her close the bedroom door softly. His breath whooshed in and hurt, he'd been holding it that whole time. She was going to be the death of him, he was sure of that.

Not a man, she'd taunted, but she was wrong because the man in him was rapidly starting to yearn for the woman in her.


	8. No Hope8

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: An Unexpected Acquaintance**

* * *

**Spring**

**-May, 20th- 2010-**

* * *

He awoke in the armchair in the living room while the television droned. Head throbbing, Leon groaned and shifted and found her curled at the foot of the chair sleeping like a pet. His jaw flexed. He licked his teeth.

He knew, somehow he just _knew, _that Wesker had had her sleep like a dog at his feet.

Without a word, Leon ducked down to pick her up. She struggled until he soothed, "It's ok. It's me."

And she settled back into sleep against him.

Progress. She was starting to accept him in a way he hadn't expected. She didn't fight against him when she was resting. She still made him want to toss her over the balcony sometimes when she was awake and having a manic meltdown, but in sleep she was softer to him.

As he laid her on the bed, she panicked a little and gasped, "...wait!...just wait...please?"

Her hand fisted in his shirt. He paused and Jill whispered, "It's too dark. Just-can you..."

She shifted over. He hesitated and she added, "...I'm sorry. Forget it. It's s-"

Without a word, he climbed on the bed beside her. He could _feel _her tighten up in panic, and he could feel her force her body to relax. She laid on her side facing away from him, but her hand shifted over and settled on his thigh where he was propped against the headboard.

Hoarsely, she murmured, "...you can go when I'm sleeping."

Leon took a hard breath and covered her hand on his thigh with his own. "Not going anywhere, kid...I promise."

Her breathing evened out. His other hand moved to smooth the hair back off her brow. Quietly, he shook his head and lamented, "...shit."

He was in it now. He just wasn't sure there was anyway to get out. Worse? He wasn't even sure he wanted to anymore.

She was the messiest fucking person he'd ever met. What the hell was it about her that made him feel..._good_? The need? In a weird way, she needed him. No one in his life had ever needed him before. He'd been mostly a gun with a good eye and a pretty face.

Girls looked. They flirted and they giggled and him? He just didn't follow through. He didn't want the mess of them. He didn't even know if he could maintain a functioning relationship anyway. He was afraid some girl would see right through him to the bottom of that pit of emptiness left behind.

Jill? She wasn't looking to be his woman. She had no interest in him as a man. It made it easier to want her like one.

He wondered who the hell was the most dysfunctional person in this bed and he couldn't stop the self deprecating laugh.

* * *

**Spring**

**-May, 22nd- 2010 -**

* * *

Jill curled against the wall with the pillow in front of her. She listened to him play. She listened to him drink. She listened to him work. The clink of ice in his glass again, and again, and again.

She didn't need to be sitting out there to know he'd likely drank the whole fifth by now. After the quiet descended, she sat on the floor in her panties and tank top and tried to decide what was next. She'd pushed him again, maybe harder than she'd wanted. She'd punched him clean in the stomach and thrown him into the bathroom the second he'd come up from his work out in the gym. She'd been showering herself and was completely naked.

He'd still been slick from the pool and slid across the bathroom floor. She'd slammed the door to the bathroom and blocked him in there while he'd cursed at her. Sadly for her, there was no escape down the stairs anymore. He'd set up an ocular scan over the pad there. Naked, enraged, she'd rushed back to the apartment.

Furious, she'd jerked open the bathroom door and attacked him. "Why won't you just let me go!?"

Leon had caught her around the waist while she struck at him and slung her bodily into the shower. He'd hit the cold water, she'd roared in rage, and he'd cuffed her to the shower head while she kicked and spit at him. The cold water made her gasp and sputter, "Asshole!"

He'd grabbed the door to seal her in the shower and she'd begged, "Come on! Damnit! Come on! At least shut the damn water off. "

With a small curl of his lip, he'd jerked the handle and done just that. As he leaned back, she kicked him in the back of the near. He'd stumbled, hit the wall with his shoulder, and Jill had laughed, "You're gonna get tired of playing prison guard one of these days, Kennedy."

Without a word, he'd risen from the wall and turned toward her. She shivered from the cold water still dripping down her body. He'd gotten close enough that her belly seized and her breath turned a little ragged.

Nose to nose, he'd gruffed, "One of these days, you're gonna regret hurting me, Jill."

Shaking, Jill had sneered, "Let. Me. Go."

As he'd turned with a laugh, she'd raised her foot to kick him again and he'd caught it, slung it aside, and gripped her throat. She gasped as he turned her toward the wall, pinned her there with a hand on her back and slapped her wet ass. Bare, it echoed in the shower as she gasped and struggled.

It stung. Her eyes swam with tears and she spat, "BASTARD!"

Head tilted, he'd laughed, "...you bitch. When are you gonna stop this shit?"

"When you let me go!" She kicked her foot at him again and he slung her back at the wall, pinned her there, and smacked her ass again. Her high pitched gasp was almost musical.

She'd sneered, "Like that, do ya? You dirty freak."

Who was she talking to? She'd been pretty sure she was talking to herself. To cover it up, she'd hissed, "Fucking pervert, uncuff me and see how much you enjoy an ass beating. Why don't we see how you like it?"

Whatever she'd thought, she'd never expected him to call her bluff. Angrily, he'd jerked at her arms and released her cuffs. There she was, naked in the shower facing him in those damn swim shorts of his.

He'd spread his arms wide, taunting her, "Come on, tough guy. What's stopping you?"

She'd rushed him and he'd caught her against him, slung her back at the wall, and grabbed her wrists as she moved to hit him. He pinned her hands over her head and kicked her feet apart, pinning her to the wall. "Stop trying to over power me, Jill. You can't. When are you gonna figure that out?"

Her nipples brushed his chest as she breathed harshly. "...I'm gonna kill you one of these days."

He'd laughed, eyes flashing, "Liar. You could have killed me a thousand times by now, Jill. You don't hate me. You know what I think? I think you're terrified by the fact that you don't hate me at all."

She curled her lip as he let go of her hands. "Go ahead. Kill me. Put your hands around my throat and squeeze."

She'd done it. She'd grabbed his throat and shoved. He'd hit the far wall of the shower with a grunt of pain. She'd tugged him forward and shoved him back again and he let her, "Asshole! Arrogant fucking asshole! Who do you think you are?"

And he'd returned, harshly, "I'm the only guy in the world who gives a shit about whether or not you sleep at night, or eat right, or take care of those wounds on your chest. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere...and that must just scare you to death."

To prove him wrong, she'd raked her nails right down his chest. He cursed, he bled, and he grabbed her wrist to drag her out of the shower. She'd known what happened next. Hell, she'd been pushing for it. They both had to know that by now.

He turned her over his knees on the edge of the tub and spanked her ass pink while she gasped and struggled. He didn't ask her to apologize. He didn't even offer to stop. He just spanked her until she stopped fighting him and went still.

She didn't roll off his lap. He didn't toss her to the floor. She lay there over his thighs and panted. His hand slid down the curve of her wet ass and made her breath catch. She rolled her groin, just a little, against his knees and he dumped her to the floor.

"Fuck you, Kennedy." She swiped at the tears on her cheeks as he rose. He laughed, the sound was sharp and angry.

"Keep it up, Jill, You might get exactly what you're asking for. Maybe that's what you want anyway. You want me to throw you down and fuck you? Well, guess what? I don't force myself on women. Not now, not ever. You want it? Come ask for it."

He'd left her in the bathroom on the floor. She'd crawled to the corner beside the tub and curled her arms around her knees. Is that what she wanted? Did she want to fuck? It wasn't really that simple.

The idea was more frightening than anything else she could even imagine. The thought of him pinning her down to plow her made her feel dizzy and sick. It wasn't about fucking. Not exactly.

But it was about pleasure. She got pleasure by controlling how hard she pushed him. Hurting him made her feel better. It was sick. It was twisted. It was _true. _

She knew he was out there sleeping now. She'd gone out a few hours later and treated the wounds on his chest as a form of apology. He'd sat there and let her. She'd even made him dinner without arguing.

He'd played to help soothe her and gone back to work.

She was a bitch. She'd known he was coming back from the pool. She'd been in that shower in perfect timing. Why? So he'd punish her naked? She was a goddamn mess.

Jill leaned against the wall and started to doze off. She was nearly asleep when she heard the rustle of sound. Her ears perked up. Her eyes opened in the dark. There was the sound of rustling papers and a squeak.

She wasn't sure _how _she knew, but she knew it wasn't Leon.

Jill rolled to her feet and eased toward the door. She glanced down the hallway and found the dark figure leaning over him. Her panic alarm went off in her head and met something white, quiet, and ingrained.

She moved like a shadow through the dark.

The second the figure leaned reached toward him, Jill gripped the back fo the couch and swung her legs to leap over it. She took the gasping attacker in a tackle. They went down on the table, shattering the heavy wood with a cracking roar.

The struggle was quick. The slim woman in her arms let Jill know she wasn't some common thief. She rolled and kicked, caught Jill's arm and jerked, sending the blonde to her face on the floor.

In a honey-dipped tone, the attacker mused, "...I'll be damned. He keeps a bitch in his dog house."

She leaned down to incapacitate her, and Jill threw a reverse head butt. The woman let go and backed off as Jill rolled to her feet. She turned and caught a glimpse of the face in the moonlight.

And Jill paused, uttering, "Wong?"

Curious, Ada tilted her head, "...have we met?"

Jill flashed white teeth, "Only in reputation. I'm Jill Valentine."

Oh, it was a good moment. Ada's eyes flashed white in the dark, "Yes, you are. Ms. Valentine...they say you're the best whose ever been with a knife."

"Do they? They'd be right."

"Maybe we should find out. Albert...he wasn't a man who left a toy...uncultivated."

"No? Prove it."

The knife in Ada's hand flashed in the moonlight. "He does sleep like the dead when he's drinking. A shame. He'd enjoy this show I think."

Two women, both trained by Wesker, both excellent at what they did. They came together again in a clash of steel and blood. Jill swung out her leg and Ada caught it jerking her forward. As she pulled, Ada drove the knife up toward Jill's sternum.

Jill caught her arm and twisted, delivering a kick to her ass she spun. Ada rolled through it, throwing her legs out to flip to her feet. Jill dropped back to one arm and buffalo kicked her as Ada raced toward her.

Her booted feet struck the solar plexus of the other woman and threw her out and back. Ada hit her back in the kitchen and skidded, smacking into the cabinets. Leon had to be passed out like the dead to miss the noise. It was as raucous as any battle ever had been.

Jill grabbed her by the hair and dragged her up. She knocked the knife away as the other woman jabbed. It spun across the floor as Jill dragged Ada to her feet.

Ada lifted her leg, straight up under the arm, and kicked her in the face backward. It was a helluva thing. It was something Jill was very good at. She grabbed Jill's arm and jerked her forward, using her hip to throw her out.

Jill rolled as Ada tried to stomp her into the floor and delivered a brutal uppercut from her kneeling position, smashing her fist into the belly of the standing spy. Ada lost her breath but not her mind, doubled over even as she spun around. She caught the kneeling thief with a brilliant roundhouse to the face.

Jill went over.

Ada straddled her in the pretty moonlit kitchen and punched her clean in the face.

It hurt. It felt like a delicate battering ram. Those skinny arms could throw power when they wanted. Jill blocked the next hit and humped her hips. She locked her calves around the other woman's face and jerked.

Ada was ripped off her, yelling. Jill watched her tumble, not graceful at all now. She rose and spit blood on the floor. Ada rose as well.

They faced each other, bleeding, and panting.

Ada said, "Enough games. This ends with one of us dead, Ms. Valentine. A shame really, when all I've come for is a little bit of intel."

In one hand, Ada was a lady. She'd never resorted to name-calling. Admirable but pointless. Jill, with her sailor's mouth, and less grace than anyone had ever had before, said, "Maybe he gave up to you for a handjob and a giggle, but I'm not a man. Your charms are wasted on me. Fuck off or finish it. Let's get to it."

Ada backed into the living room and Jill rushed her. They grappled, Ada rolling her shoulder into the other woman and Jill reversing, elbowing her twice in the face and slinging her over her shoulder like it was nothing.

It dumped the spy right onto the sleeping body of Leon on the couch.

He grunted, jerked awake finally from a drunken stupor, and his arms latched around the woman atop him to pin her there. With something like a coo, Ada invited, "Squeeze harder, darling, and make the whole thing fun."

Blinking his bloodshot eyes, Leon grunted, "...Ada...never a pleasure. Why the fuck are you here?"

Above him, Jill spat, "Why else? Apparently, she's here for a fuck and a little snooping. Got anything worth stealing, Kennedy?"

On his lap, Ada sighed, "She's mean. Your kitten has teeth, Leon. I didn't know you kept a bitch."

"...you think you're the only bitch in my life, Ada?"

She laughed, amused, and turned her face to kiss his chin. "Be a sport and let me go. Clearly, I've come to play at a bad time. Control your bitch and I'll be on my way. She stabbed me, Leon. Aren't you angry with her?"

He rolled his eyes and rose, setting her away. Jill moved as if she'd attack her and he ended up catching the blonde around the waist instead. Annoyed, Jill shouted, "You serious!? Call this in! Get her into custody!"

Ada sighed and headed toward the balcony. She tucked the file in her hand into the back of her pants as she went, "A little parting gift it seems. Perhaps you should explain to your bitch what we do here, Leon."

Jill sneered and surged against him. He had his hands full holding her back as Ada headed out to the balcony and Jill roared, "KENNEDY! STOP HER! YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"

Eyes flashing happily, Ada mused, "Ohhhh. Ohhh, Leon. Your bitch has claws."

"Call me a bitch one more time, you viperous cunt! I'll cut your fucking tongue out!"

Leon grunted with the effort of restraining Jill, "I'm glad you're enjoying the show, Ada, really. But I think it's time you fuck off."

Ada laughed musically, "This is a magical night for me, Leon. It really is. Worth the bleeding side, I think. Play nice kids. We'll see each other again soon."

She blew a kiss, hit the trigger on the gun in her hand, and was zipped off into the night.

Jill roared in anger and attacked him instead. Admittedly, he kinda had it coming. Understanding the complex nature of an informant like Ada was never easy. Especially when the person in his arms had just spent the evening beating the crap outta her.

"You stupid bastard!" Jill slapped him so hard his goddamn ear rang. He caught her wrist, spun her around, and pinned her back to his front.

"Ease down, princess, I know what I'm doing."

"You idiot! You let her fuck you and use you for information. Is that it?"

He shook his head and Jill kicked the wall in front of her. It sent them both backward. He hit the wall, grunted, and she elbowed him in the gut, stomped down on his foot, and whipped the back of her fist up to hit him in the face.

To avoid it, he kicked her feet out from under her and pushed her over the couch. She grunted, flipped over it, and landed on her face with a hmph of sound.

"Number one - nunya business who I fuck, sweetheart. B - we have a system, Ada and I, she shows up and steals shit from me and at some point pops in to save my life. I follow her around like a pathetic moron waiting for any scrap of return intel, steal samples from her while she coos at me, and end up with her hand in my pants like she's working a joystick for a video game. Stupid? Sure. But it's my system. Leave it alone."

Jill flipped over on the couch with a harsh laugh, "You cuck. You kidding me here? She the reason you don't fuck? You only fuck that bitch? Does she ask for it? Or does she hold you down and spank you instead? Whose the bottom in that relationship, you emotional landmine?"

He said nothing as he went into the messy kitchen and helped himself to a bottle of Tylenol and a big glass of water. His brows arched at the disaster. Jesus. He'd missed World War III apparently.

"Again, Jill, the answer you're looking for here? Nunya."

She rolled to her feet. "...man. They call her the bitch in red. She called me yours. But the truth here? The bitch is you. You're her bitch. You bark for her when she asks too, Kennedy? Christ. I didn't think you could get any sadder. Maybe I should have let her stick her hand in your pants and stayed in my room."

Jill snorted as she picked her way through the living room, "Sorry for the mess. I'll clean it up tomorrow. You should call her - I bet she's still close enough by to come on back and give you a reach around while she fucks you...she looks like the type to use a strap on. Do you cry afterward? I bet she holds you while she f-"

If she'd thought he couldn't scare her, she'd been wrong. He grabbed her so fast it made her breath stop. Her heart seized in her chest as he caught her arms and jerked, throwing her into the chair in the kitchen. She had a moment to wonder if he'd slap her face.

He didn't.

He threw the glass of water in his hand in it.

She gasped in shock as he grunted, "There. That oughta shut you up. Since nothing else does."

He stumbled toward the couch and Jill realized he was kinda hungover and still kinda drunk. He made an_ oopmh_ sound and half slumped on the couch. Jill sat in the chair, blinking at the water on her face.

With a sigh, he lamented. "...I liked this goddamn table, man...women."

Jill stared at the skyline beyond the glass. Ada Wong. She'd heard the rumors. She'd needled him about her. She'd never really believed it. But there it was. He was involved with a spy. He was the guardian of a "traitor". He was the son of a Senator and the loneliest man she'd ever seen.

He'd stood between her and everyone else at that building. He'd kept Chris away at her request. He didn't hit her. He didn't do anything but drink himself stupid when he was alone.

Why did she care about Ada Wong? Why?

To test herself, she asked quietly, "...you in love with that bitch?"

And he laughed in a way that sounded painful, "Hard to be in love with a liar, Jill. We're not running away together after gym class, if that's what you're asking."

She tilted her head to look at his profile in the dark. "It isn't. I asked if you were in love with her."

He scrubbed his hands over his face. The muscles in his arms bunched in the faded gray t-shirt he wore. "I don't even know how to answer that. Do I love Jack Daniels? Nope, but I like the way it tastes."

And there it was. She let it rolll around in her belly. What was it? It didn't take a genius to really figure that out either. She was...jealous. It was easy enough to get attached to someone when you were alone in your own weird world here.

Ada Wong popping up reminded her that it wasn't just them. That he wasn't some guy. That he wasn't..._her guy. _Jesus...did she want him to be hers? No. That wasn't it. Not exactly. She just didn't...want him to be Ada Wong's either.

Wow.

She closed her eyes and absorbed that truth. She liked having his whole attention. She didn't want to share it. She didn't want to spend his time drinking and mooning about Ada Wong.

Mouth dry, Jill rose. She knew what to do to make sure that didn't happen. She knew what men wanted.

He wouldn't hurt her. Maybe it would give her back some kind of power to do it. Right? If she asked for it, would he let her? She felt dizzy with the idea of touching him. Fear? Yes. Courage? Yes.

A heady mix of fight and flight that meant she could do anything she wanted right now. She could leave him alone. She could try to flee. She could go back to her room and cower.

Or she could try to take back some part of herself she'd thought was long, long, long gone.

Jill crossed the living room toward the couch. He muttered, "...fuck. I feel like someone drop kicked my liver."

After a moment of scrubbing his face, he lowered his hands to find her looking at him. Sighing, he told her, "I'm not in the mood to fight with you, Jill. Just go to bed. We can clean up this mess in the morning."

Quietly, she whispered, "Some messes can't be cleaned up, Kennedy. Clearly."

His snort wasn't funny, it was sad. "Clearly. Thanks for making me feel worse though. Always a good time, Jill."

Testing him, she mused, "Maybe I'll run. You're too drunk to stop me."

He laughed and it was definitely sad now, "I'll never be that drunk, princess, but maybe you're right. Go ahead. Run. I'm too tired to care right now."

The light from the television flickered over his face. The city was pretty behind his shoulders in those floor to ceiling windows. As he moved, the shirt snuggly hugged his chest and arms. His holster was draped over the arm of the couch with his gun bumping the fabric. His hair had grown out enough to dip over his eyes as he leaned his head back on the couch.

With a deep breath, Jill moved toward him. He glanced up and sighed, "Don't, Jill. I mean it."

But she didn't hit him.

She straddled his lap in the moonlight and left him breathless as she murmured, "...I guess this is me asking for it."

It?

Her face. He knew what she was asking for. He had the strangest urge to deny her and run for the hills. Why? Because she looked terrified at the idea of it.

Instead? He did what he always did when faced with a woman that wanted to use him - nothing. In this case, his sacrifice just mean change her life forever. So he answered, hoarsely, "...ok."

And she looked like she just might vomit on him in relief.

What. A. Night.


	9. No Hope9

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Reclamation**

* * *

**Spring**

**-May 22nd, 2010-**

* * *

He went so still she thought he'd turned to stone.

Her voice was hoarse as she murmured, "...I think I'm asking for it."

Shit.

She was getting good at calling his bluff.

But he didn't turn her away. His mouth opened and whispered, "...ok."

Ok. The lamest thing a man had ever said to give a woman the ability to use him. Ok. Why not? The whole thing was surreal.

Jill felt a little dizzy as she tunneled her hands at the bottom of his shirt and tugged. He lifted his arms and she pulled it off him, tossing it away. Her hair was soft and pale in the flickering light from the News broadcast behind her.

His mouth was so dry he was afraid he might cough.

Jill's hands laid flat on his chest. They slid over his collarbone and to his arms. When he let her, she rolled his arms over his head and left them there. Her fingers moved toward his ribs and along each muscle in his belly.

Her breathing was ragged. It hitched and rolled. She put her lips to spot behind his left ear. Her gasp was warm as she tilted his chin up and kissed down his neck. Leon stared at the ceiling, his hands clammy and his heart racing.

Jesus. He felt about sixteen again. If he moved, if he made a sound, she'd stop. Her mouth slid against his collarbone. She licked his left nipple and drew it into her mouth. He let his eyes close and counted backward from a hundred to hold himself still.

She was trembling as she mirrored to the other side. Her mouth licked and kissed, sliding up the backside of his right biceps. She shifted to kiss his ear and kiss along his jaw. She made a small sound like a moan.

Christ. Her little panties shifted over his denim clad groin. She slid back off his lap and he raised his head to look at her. He kept his arms as she'd left them draped over the couch behind his head. Like what?

Like she'd cuffed him there or something.

He got it.

It cost him nothing to leave them there.

He wanted to touch her. He wanted to feel her and smell her and taste her...but this? It wasn't his moment. It was hers. It cost him nothing at all to let her have it. Her? It was costing her everything to try. If she'd been hoofing it bare foot up a mountain in mid winter, it wouldn't have cost her more.

Jill's shaking hands caught the bottom of her panties. She slid them down her legs while he watched her. As she rose again, Leon was pretty sure he'd swallowed his tongue anyway.

She moved back in front of him. Her voice was shaking, "...I'm not-it's...I didn't..." She trailed off and her hand covered her mound for just a moment. He got it. Again, somehow? He got it.

She was talking about the hair on her groin. It wasn't waxed and maintained and pretty like a pussy in a porno flick. Did she think it mattered? How did he tell her that men mostly didn't give a shit about that? You took off your panties for a man, he liked your pussy. Nine times out of ten, it didn't matter.

Hers? It was beautiful. Her even attempting to do this? It was _beautiful. _He wanted to tell her, calm her, encourage or comfort her. He didn't know how. He didn't want to scare her more. There had never been more at stake with sex in the history of the _world._

He figured, fuck it, he should say something, right? "...I don't care, Jill."

_GREAT. _Fan-_fucking_\- tastic. What a fucking idiot. I don't care, he said. That's what came out of his stupid mouth. He sounded blase and almost bored. The weird part? It seemed to encourage her. She nodded rapidly. She took two swallows and moved her hand to let him see her.

She straddled his thighs but didn't sit down on him yet. He wanted to touch her. It was visceral. He didn't. Who said he had no self control?

Her hands moved to his zipper on his jeans. It sounded loud as she tugged it down. A single fat tear dripped off her chin and landed on his belly.

It was probably the first time a woman had cried while undressing him. A roll of painful sympathy nearly left him breathless. When she tugged on his jeans, he lifted his hips so she could slide them down his thighs. They pooled on the floor with a rustle of denim. He left them around his ankles. Yep...definitely sixteen again.

He surprised himself by admitting, painfully gruff and low, "...I - uh..hah..I haven't done this, Jill...in..." He trailed off and cleared his throat, "...it's been awhile."

That? It seemed to make her relax a little. She nodded and licked her lips. She whispered, "...that's ok."

"...yeah?"

"Yeah. It's ok." She slid her hand against his thigh and the springy hair there. "...you're-a natural blonde, huh?"

God, this was all unreal.

What the hell was the urge to apologize for not having any underwear on? He was losing his marbles here. There was no rush and need and grapple here. It was almost clinical.

Besides the huge boner jutting up from the nest of his groin hair. He nodded, watching her swipe a hand across her wet cheeks, "...yeah...toehead...actually when I was- ya know- young."

Jill nodded, sniffling a little, "...you're still young."

He sure as hell felt young right this second. A boy being studied by the first girl he'd ever touched. She wasn't. He'd touched girls. Sure. His girlfriend in highschool...Ada...he'd touched girls.

Two but that was still plural. So it counted.

She touched the springy hair above his dick and he swallowed dryly, "...whose the redhead?"

It took him two tries to answer her, "...Dad."

Jill nodded. She touched the heavy heat of his sack, tucking down the delicate skin and running her fingers against the soft hair there, and he moaned softly. Her eyes shot up to his face and Leon whispered, hoarsely, "...s-sorry. Sorry."

Jill shook her head, "...it's ok. You like that?"

He nodded. She slid her finger over the head of his dick and it slicked her finger with sticky pre-cum. His legs trembled and had her smiling gently at him, "...your..."She gestured at his groin, "...it's nice. Your cock. It's pretty."

Jesus Christ crapped on a basket of curly fries, she was trying to kill him. A bubble of laughter nearly hurt his chest as it tried to come out, but he smiled at her, "...thanks? Thanks, I think."

"It's...ya know..it's a good size."

Wow. His mouth twitched now and he couldn't stop the soft scoff, "...I think that's a nice way of saying it's small."

Her head shook rapidly. She licked her lips and swiped again at the tears on her cheeks, "...no. I just-I'm sorry. That's not-what...I didn't mean that. I meant...it's nice. It suits you."

This was the strangest conversation he'd ever had in his life. He smiled again, "...thank you...I like yours too, Jill. I like-ya know...I like hair down there. I don't like a smooth...uh...sexless mound, ya know?"

"Yeah? Ok. S-sure. Sure. Let's just..."

In that white tank top, Jill slid back on his lap. His heart jerked and he finally spoke, "...Jill, you do-"

She shook her head. She put her hand over his mouth and reached behind her. She didn't have to work for it. He was already rock hard anyway. Fuck, he felt like apologizing for that too.

She'd turned him into a fucking wreck.

The second her hand closed around him, his hands gripped hard into the couch. She slid her fist up and down and kept her other one over his mouth. She made a small sound like a sob that nearly broke his heart, but it didn't matter a damn to his dick. That betraying bastard was happy to let her play with it.

She shifted he hand off his mouth to take one of his wrists. She slid it up her belly and over one of her breasts. Her voice shook, "You like that?"

In the moonlight, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Ever. In his whole life. But he grunted, "Yeah...yeah. Does it feel good?"

She nodded. She cleared her throat and smiled, shakily, "Do you like my..ya know..my tits? They're ok?"

Without waiting for the right cue there, he practically heaved it at her like a grenade, "Yes. Perfect. Jill...you're perfect."

She shook her head, no. She didn't want to hear that. She left the shirt on for a reason. He knew why. She didn't want him to see her. He wanted to put his hand flat on all those scars and tell her they just made her more beautiful. He didn't. He just let her touch him and let her guide him.

"Do I feel soft?"

He cleared his throat, "Yes. Feel good?"

She nodded and a tear plopped on his forearm.

Fuck. She was trying so hard here. How did he help her? She swirled his palm around her breast. It was full, it was heavy, the nipple was peaked and warm. Did he like it? He took over touching her and she nodded, skimming her hand down his wrist and out from under the shirt. Her mouth quivered and she took his other arm and shifted it down her back. She settled it over the curve of her left ass cheek. She rolled it there and invited, "How's that? Do you like that? I have...a big butt I think."

Somewhere whatever fucking idiot had told her that needed a punch in the dick. Hard. Continuous. He gruffed, "...I like it."

Oh, he knew how that ass felt. He'd been touching it plenty for weeks. A different feeling to grope it as opposed to spanking it. His hand kneaded gently at that perfect cheek and she nodded again, shivering. Her eyes spilled tears like jewels on her cheeks as she rubbed the of head of his traitorous dick against the slick heat of her. He tried, he really did, to not make any noise. His right hand shifted to knead her other breast and she whimpered like it hurt.

Jill felt like she might throw up or pass out, but she angled his dick at her body and started to slide down on it. Her body stretched. Her thighs trembled. Her breath sobbed out in a small burst as she put her face into the bend of his neck and shoulder and lowered herself. Her goddamn body welcomed the first inch and had him trembling. Torture. That's what it was. For her, for him - torture. But he'd survive it.

It could go on forever for him. For her? She looked like she might start sobbing.

After an inch or two, she was shaking so hard that he just stopped being still. His hand slid off her ass. He slid it down over her groin to where their bodies were joined. She made a sound of panic and his mouth turned against her ear to whisper, "..do you trust me?"

A loaded question.

Her hands gripped into his hair. She whimpered and made small sound of pain before she nodded. Her tears were warm on his neck as his fingers tucked against her body where it was swallowing his. Leon's other hand skimmed up to grip her ponytail and hold her to him.

And he stroked her.

Easy. Smooth. Soft. Palm flat against her pelvis and slick against her folds. She was easily opened where she'd merged them. He brushed her clit and had her mouth gasping against his neck. His cheek leaned against her head and he swirled his fingers until her body seized around the tip of him.

There it was, he thought desperately, there it was. That? Good.

She slicked around him where he was nestled. Her hitching sobs quieted. His mouth warmly touched the shell of her ear, "You like that?"

Shit. Her mouth opened on a small cry. She let herself sink down on him completely and her body swallowed him like a mouth. They both made sounds. Hers was a shivering whimper, his was a groan.

And his voice was hoarse, "...you can stop, Jill. Do you wanna stop? Look at me."

But she shook her head: no.

She didn't stop. She lifted her hips. She rolled up until their foreheads pressed together. His fingers stroked her, and she just moved. Her own pace. Her own time. She lifted and lowered and quietly cried.

He'd never had a woman fuck him and cry. He wasn't sure how the hell he felt about any of it. He'd never, in his life, had a woman make him feel like he mattered more than this one did, in this moment. What he did, what he didn't do - it all mattered.

Her mouth moved to touch his. She didn't kiss him, she just ran their lips together while she rode him. He opened his mouth so she could slide her tongue inside.

Whiskey, she thought, he tasted like whiskey. When his tongue touched back against hers, she sucked it. He liked that. Clearly. He trembled and she felt him resist the urge to surge into her.

He was good. Gentle. He was letting her use him. She knew it. Jill slid her hands down and over his chest. She gripped into the muscles of his pecs and moved a little faster. He was big enough that he each slide in and out of her stretched and rubbed.

It didn't feel bad. It felt good. The good scared her. She didn't want to feel the pleasure. She'd thought - what? She'd climb on his lap and feel nothing?

Her hands tunneled into his hair and turned his face up for her. She opened her eyes to find him watching her. It shivered in her belly. She wasn't on her back staring at the bugs on the floor or face down in a sweaty nest of hair with her mouth stuffed full while her ass burned.

It wasn't painful. The stretch and slide and feel of him was incredible. His stroking fingers made her body slick around him. Pleasure. Not from punishment, from touch. From need. Hers. His.

The pleasure hit shame and fear and made a mess inside of her. Against his mouth, she gasped, "...oh, god..."

His free hand caught her ponytail and held her forehead to his as he kissed her back. His face moved. He arched his neck. She tugged his hair hard enough to make him grunt.

Her body shook atop him like she might have a seizure. He wanted to roll her over on her back and plow her. It hurt to resist it. Instead, he stroked her where they merged, and moved his hips. She went up, she came down - and he met her. Gentle. Just enough that her body spasmed around him and swallowed like a throat. Hell.

Hell.

He was in it. Or heaven. Or spitted in between like a rotisserie chicken. Somewhere.

It was guttural when he groaned, "..._Jill._.."

Her name. Hers. Had anyone ever said her name like that? Not a command - a plea. Her eyes opened. The tears trembled and dripped onto his chest. He shook his head, the struggle on his face was almost beautiful. He was trying not to cum in her, she knew that. She could see it on him. Her heart shivered at the effort. He cared enough to hold back.

It was her moment. She knew that. His fingers tucked and pleasured. His eyelids trembled while she looked at him. Pleasure. It was all over him. And some kind of pain that wasn't physical. It was spiritual or emotional or both.

Her voice was high pitched and desperate, "...does it feel good inside me?"

Was she kidding? He wanted to _die _inside her. His voice broke, and endeared him to her forever, ".._.perfect_."

And so was he.

His face said inside her was the best place he'd ever been. He wasn't punishing her. He wasn't controlling her. He was losing his _in _her. His face? It was a mirror of absolute need. She wasn't staring into the sweating face of a man grunting like a pig and ripping her.

She was staring into the face of man who looked at her like she just might be the only thing in the world that mattered. She smeared his hair back off his face to watch him completely. She kissed with her eyes open to see his reaction. His dick pulsed in her and that? It just felt exquisite. Kissing made him harder in her.

She gasped, shaking, as he swirled his fingers in a way that she felt a lightning strike inside her body. Her pussy reacted, squeezing him. She watched it on his face. The desperation, the surrender - he was _hers. _He'd let her do anything she wanted, anything she needed. His face? It said he'd given over all his power to her.

His fingers found her as she sank down on him completely. There was no division between her and him. Mated, she thought, that's what it was. Mated. Her body was full of him.

His eyes? They were full of _her._

They kissed and it echoed in her belly. She moaned, his fingers stroked just right and the lightning hit her blood. Panic turned to painful greed. Leon watched it shoot across her. She was almost there. He felt her body clench hard and she gasped, her hands jerked in his hair, and she whined - almost desperately - "...don't..don't don't don't..."

She was scared of her own release. She grabbed his wrist desperately.

If he could resurrect the corpse of Albert Wesker, he'd do it just to kill him again.

He tried, he did, to soothe her, "..it's ok, baby,_ let go_. I got you."

She _couldn't. _She was afraid it would kill her.

Jill started to pull back and he let her. She scrambled off his lap. The second she lifted off his lap, his balls let him know they weren't happy. They ached. He sat still as a statue as she retreated.

She nearly tripped as she ran. He listened to her slam the bedroom door. He heard her slide to the floor and the wild sound of her weeping was going to haunt him. He knew it. It was going to haunt him as much as the ghost of Wesker was haunting her.

Leon kicked over the rest of the broken table with a curse.

He sat there listening to her weep and hurt for them both.

* * *

**-May 23rd, 2010-**

* * *

He wasn't there when she emerged in the morning.

After a moment, it was a bolt of shock and pain.

Claire Redfield was sitting on the couch watching the news. The apartment was spotless. She knew he'd cleaned it after she'd run away the night before. All that pent up energy, he'd cleaned.

She'd watched him swim at four a.m. He'd cleaned and he'd trained and he'd swam.

She'd hid in her room and cried.

She was a coward.

She was afraid of an orgasm. It was ridiculous. She was a cosmic joke. She'd hurt him - she knew that. She'd run away weeping and hurt him. She didn't mean to. She didn't mean to use him either.

He'd been so kind to her. All she did was hurt him. Like Ada. Like his father. He was a glutton for punishment. Maybe it was all he knew, to push on when the people in his life used and abandoned him.

Like Claire.

Claire was kind in her bones. If she'd known the cost, would she have still left Leon behind after Raccoon City? Did she even realize how he'd felt about her? It was unlikely. The Redfield's weren't cruel. Chris...he'd probably never really known what Jill felt about him.

He'd never confessed feelings or given her a reason to chase him. The physical wasn't emotional for Chris. It never had been.

Sex was just sex.

He'd never, ever, looked at her like Leon had the night before. Like she was the most exquisite thing he'd ever seen or felt or been inside. It wasn't just sex for him. The panic of what it meant was nearly painful.

She'd wanted to get atop him and prove them both wrong. She wanted to prove she wasn't broken and that he wasn't important. Just sex. That's what she'd been trying to achieve that night.

Instead?

He'd called her baby. He'd touched her and kissed her and held her. She'd peeled the hair off his face to see _her _all over him. And she'd liked it.

She liked him. She _hated _him because she didn't hate him at all. What a fucking mess.

Claire smiled up at her as Jill emerged into the living room. "Hey, you! You better?"

Brows arched, Claire clarified, "Leon said you weren't feeling well. He had to run some errands, but he left you a note on the fridge."

Jill shifted into the kitchen, poured some coffee, and tugged the little folded note from under a magnet. She opened it expecting some drawn out explanation. Some great...what? Confession?

_Time wounds all heels. Behave. __-L_

Her eyes teared up. No guilt heaped on her. No judgment. He was just that guy. No hard feelings. Jill resisted the urge to press the small note to her chest and tossed it in the trash instead.

Claire was watching her quietly as she turned back.

"...what?"

"You're different."

Jill arched her brows again, "...blonde?"

Claire laughed and shook her head. The redhead looked pretty and soft in a way that Jill envied. There was no heavy battle scars on Claire or painful recovery. She'd found a way to fight their battle without nearly getting buried at every turn.

"No...better. Something is better. Leon's good to you?"

Jill smiled lightly, "...he's awful. He's rude and he's controlling and he's always telling me no...like a mean parent."

Claire rolled her eyes, "Uh-huh. Sure. You look ok to me. Leon's a real tough guy, let me tell you."

Surprised by that, Jill took up a spot on the couch beside her. "In what way?"

"In no way. Leon's soft, Jill. He's just one of those decent guys that probably should have been a cop, married a nice girl, and had some kids. Somehow? He's held onto that boy next door thing that makes him charming."

Jill tucked her feet up under her, "He was that way in Raccoon?"

"God, yes. Hot, don't get me wrong. That face? My panties wanted to cream themselves." Claire laughed, eyes twinkling, "But he was a dedicated cop. No flirting. No funny stuff. He was helpful and gentle and brave. He's still that way."

There it was. No reference to the great goodbye. No idea that it had cost him pieces of himself when she left him. Claire had no clue about the damage she'd done that day. She added, smiling, "All that's changed is the flirting. Now he's charming and sweet and funny _and _flirty."

Jill smiled in return, "He is the least charming man I've ever met. Are you kidding? He acts like a robot."

He didn't. He acted like a man pushed to his limits by a bitch with a massive depressive disorder, but Jill wanted to see what Claire would say. The redhead looked surprised and laughed, "He can be overly professional, sure, but it's no different than Chris. Just a tough shell over a big squish. He's never hit on me, not once, in all these years either. He flirts with anything in a skirt, but not me."

Jill nodded sagely and remarked, "It's because you have no soul."

Claire barked out a laugh, "True. Besides...I heard he has a thing for sideways snatch anyway."

Jill's eyes widened and twinkled, "...that's racist, Redfield."

"Is it? I thought it was just poor humor. Seriously though? The rumor mill says it's Asian girls for Leon."

It was. But it wasn't girls. It was just one. The fact that she was Asian? Irrelevant, but again Jill didn't feel it necessary to expose that part of him. From what she could tell, he was a private man with a very public persona. His truth he'd shared? It was safe inside the vault of Valentine with all the other secrets she'd take to her grave.

That's just the type of person she was. When you earned it, it was all loyalty from her even if she went out a window to save you.

Chris was a topic best avoided for them. They were careful to not speak of him. They played some games and talked and shared some lunch. It was nice to have company that wasn't testing her limits for a change.

By the dinner hour though, Jill began to miss him. There was some kind of panic looping in her guts. It made her nervous. She separated from Claire to go into her room and curl up in the corner.

She put the pillow over her belly and brought her knees up.

She rocked on the floor.

What if he didn't come back? What did that mean? Had he finally had enough of her? What if he didn't come _back_?

Jill made a small sound of pain. What if he left her for good here? Would they come to take her away? Had she pushed him too far? She put her face in the pillow and rocked back and forth, back and forth, and felt her panic turn into something tangible. She'd driven him away.

She wouldn't go. If they came for her, she wouldn't go. She'd stay here. He couldn't make her leave. So what if he was done caring for her? She didn't need him anyway. She was better off alone. She'd run.

Damn him. She run if he didn't come back. She'd run every time she opened her eyes. She'd find him and kick his ass. She'd -

The door to her bedroom opened.

She heard Claire say softly, "She's been like that for hours. I could hear her moaning out there like she was in pain. I didn't know what to do."

"It's ok. You can go, Claire. Thank you for staying."

Claire nibbled her lip as he crossed the bedroom. The heavy black leather jacket he wore creaked happily as he moved. On the floor, Jill lifted her head from the pillow and cursed, "You stupid asshole! Get out of here!"

Claire started to intercede before freezing on the spot.

Leon shook his head, Jill spat, "I mean it, Kennedy! Beat it!"

"Miss me?"

"No!"

Angry as Jill sounded, she made a sound of surrender as he got closer.

His voice was gentle in a way that Claire had never heard in her life...no...that wasn't true. She'd heard that voice. He used it with Sherry in Raccoon City. "I'm here now. I'm home. Come here."

"No! Go away." She sounded so pitiful.

Her hands grabbed the front of his jacket as he slid down against the wall beside her. She put her face into the curve of his neck and shoulder. One of her hands slid into the open neck of his jacket and settled over his chest. She slapped it twice and made a small sound of pain.

Leon's left arm curled around her shoulders to pull her in. His other hand caught the hand striking his chest and held it. "You fucking mad?"

Jill whimpered sadly and shook her head. "...I hate you."

He laughed, shaking his head, "I know."

"I don't need you."

"I know...what a tough guy."

Jill clutched him, professing, "...I'm so sorry." Claire felt her heart seize in sympathy.

He turned his nose and mouth against the crown of her head. Claire blinked. What was that look on his face? It had been on Chris' face the night their parents had died.

It was love.

He loved her.

Did he realize it?

Claire left them alone as Jill started to cry. She shook her head. How in the world was she going to tell her brother that Leon Kennedy was in love with his girl? Lord - she was just hoping there were boulders close by for him to punch. Otherwise? Leon was about to lose some teeth.


	10. No Hope10

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: A Tale of Two Families**

* * *

**Summer**

**-July 4th, 2010-**

* * *

He awoke before dawn to find her with a knife in the kitchen. It sounded innocuous and wasn't. She was naked. She was clutching the knife in her hands and crying.

Alarmed, he called to her, "Jill? You ok?"

Her voice broke as she gasped, "...let me go. Please? Just let me go."

Leon took a step toward her and she gasped, liting the knife, "Don't! Don't you touch me again! You hear me!? EVER!"

His heart trembled. There was something about her eyes that was scaring him. It was like a she was having a nightmare but she was awake or something. He wasn't even really sure she knew who he was.

"...it's me, Jill. Leon. Kennedy. Leon Kennedy. Look at me."

She trembled. She covered her mound with one hand and whimpered, "...it hurts. I'm bleeding."

She wasn't. She wasn't bleeding at all. She was hallucinating or still sleeping or in some kind of psychosis. What had George told him to do if she did that? Let her experience it so her mind could help her deal.

So he did. He spoke gently and firmly, "You survived, Jill. You aren't there anymore. You're not bleeding. You're safe. You're safe now."

She hiccuped around the sobbing, "...I'm never safe. I'll never get away. Let me go...please?"

And she rushed him. He braced, the knife went right across his biceps as he turned his body into her, and he divested her of the knife. He tossed it away, she gasped and screamed, god almighty he'd never heard anyone scream like that, and he brought her back to his front to hold her.

"Shhhh. It's done now. Jill...it's done."

She collapsed forward until he held her up. She wept, "...oh, I'm sorry. I hurt you? I'm so sorry. Oh, god...I just want it to stop. Make it stop...make it stop..."

She wept copiously where he held her. She collapsed to her knees and he went with her. She turned a little and he curled against her back, cupping a hand over the back of her head to hold her against chest. She covered his bleeding arm with her hand and pressed, "...I'm so sorry..."

Heartbroken, he put his cheek on her head and his mouth by her ear, shaking with rage for what she'd been through, "...it's ok, baby. It's ok. I've gotcha. I'm never gonna let anything happen to you. I swear to god."

It was the first time he'd sworn something like that and felt it resonate in his bones.

* * *

The Mach 1 cruised down the heavily pebbled drive. It was flashy - there was no lie there. A muscle car made of orange steel with a black stripe. It wasn't the tasteful Jaguar she'd first ridden in.

Apparently, the name Kennedy came with money and looks and fancy trappings. The enormous palatial estate in front of them had Jill feeling a bit like a she might panic and piss herself. She kept waiting for someone to pop out and yell, "Gotcha!"

"I can't go in there."

Leon sighed, shaking his head, "I know the feeling. You can. Just a half an hour for the holiday, for good graces, and we can leave. If you want, I can have someone come pick you up instead."

Her head shook sharply. She gripped his forearm. No. With him and terrified was better than without him and safe.

She hadn't touched him since that night. Not so much as a hug or a handshake or a tremulous kiss. She'd been well behaved and hadn't challenged him outside of the occasional urge to curse him when he demanded she bathe or eat her dinner or get dressed.

It had been six weeks of relative peace. She sat on the floor by him while he worked on the couch. She watched tv next to him. They trained and swam laps versus each other. She always, always, always pulled him into the bedroom to sleep on the bed beside her with her hand on his forearm like a cuff.

At one point, she started talking. He'd been cooking when she simply spoke, "I was in love with Chris."

He'd paused chopping tomatoes and turned toward her like she'd spoke in a foreign language. She knew it was rare for her to start a conversation with any real piece of information regarding herself, but she just wanted him to know that he wasn't alone.

"I met him in the academy. He was good to me. Friendly, funny...and easy going. It was my idea, that first time, to take him to bed. We were both a little drunk. We had just gotten into S.T.A.R.S. together. I put my hand on his thigh in a bar and asked him to take me bed."

She'd shrugged standing in the open space by the kitchen, "I don't think he cared about it. Why would he? Men and sex, right? It's just something they do and forget about. He rolled on top of me. He...tried, but it just didn't work. At the time, I thought he was too drunk. But now I think he was just..not into me. I cried while he snored next to me. He's not...the most observant man on Earth, is Chris."

Leon had turned back to keep chopping, listening, aware, and waiting.

Jill had kept on going, making his hands shake with it. Why? She never, ever spoke to him like that. It was somehow almost as important as the sex she'd tried to share. "It didn't stop me from getting attached to him. He never bothered, didn't seem to care. Chris went out and got laid when it suited him - boys, girls...he's not picky."

Leon froze. The knife in his hands had suddenly seemed heavy. He'd queried, "...boys?"

"Oh, yeah. You didn't know? Chris isn't picky. He doesn't care about what's between your legs. He just goes for what comes out of your mouth. He likes a pretty face." She'd laughed lightly, "He loves yours. It's probably why he's always so prickly when you're around. He usually reacts poorly to being interested in someone by either pushing them away or being cold. He and I always got along because I wasn't ever on his radar as something to keep."

He'd set the knife down and turned to face her. She'd shrugged, "I was his buddy, never the love of his life. On Halloween, he wasn't angry because you might be fucking me...he was angry at the idea of me fucking _you."_

Leon blinked. Jill smiled sadly, "Yeah. You covet one Redfield and the other one covets you."

Shit. He'd never, not once, thought Chris was bi-sexual. Hell, it was hard to see Chris as _sexual. _He was almost painfully uptight and boring. Something registered under the surprise though and he clarified, "I don't covet Claire."

Jill shrugged, "It's ok. I did for a long time. After the Queen Zenobia, I took another shot. He didn't even bother to try. He just turned me down. His best friend in the world, right? It was never, ever sexual for him."

Leon licked his teeth and Jill laughed, sadly, "I was so in love with him and he had no fucking clue. Shortly after that, I decided it was a good time to jump out a window to save him...but I could jump out a hundred windows and it wouldn't have made him want me."

Leon felt a muscle flex in his jaw as she'd added, "...sometimes coveting something we can't have just makes us feel like shit..and it doesn't make it better because we loved it."

"You still in love with him?

Jill had shrugged, "What is love, right? Something stupid we use as an excuse to do dumb shit. He was worth dying for. It's not his fault he never saw what was right there. The Redfields** aren't** bad people...they're worth protecting and coveting and keeping safe...even if it costs you everything you've got to do it...right?"

What was this? What was she saying here? Something on her face made him feel the need to clarify it.

She'd turned to go and he'd said it again, harder this time, "I don't covet Claire."

Jill had given him a sad look, "No? What about Ada Wong?"

Without a backward glance, she'd left him in the kitchen. The thing was, Chris Redfield could spend all day long coveting his ass. That was fine. It didn't matter. It changed nothing and made no difference.

What had Claire said to her when she'd been there? Was it enough that Jill thought he was still barking up that tree? There was no regret in him for Claire. He'd made a choice and she'd never regretted hers.

It wasn't her fault that he'd spent a lifetime regretting his.

Apparently, Chris didn't get the memo that Jill had spent a lifetime chasing him. Was she still? Is that what this was? Her warning him about her feelings?

Leon had turned back to finish dinner with a chip on his shoulder. Apparently, he was jealous of Chris Redfield. He admitted it, in that moment, and made peace with it. Why? Because the crazy woman in his bedroom was jumping out windows to show her love for that roided up fool?

Yeah. A little. Maybe that was it exactly.

She'd died and been a prisoner just to preserve a man who would never love her.

Who in the hell could understand that kind of unrequited love better than him?

But she'd used a specific phrasing when she'd engaged him in conversation. I _was _in love with Chris. Not am; was. There was a huge difference in the syntax of that kind of thing.

He'd carried that chip around for weeks now.

It was still there as he studied her face in the car. So now he offered with an icy tone, "I can call Redfield to get you, if you want."

Jill gave him a confused look, "No. Why would I want him? I don't want to see him."

She shook her head, "No. Just...don't leave me in there. Ok? Can you do that?"

He squeezed her hand on his forearm, "You got it. I knew you'd come around, Valentine. Can't get enough of me, huh?"

Jill rolled her eyes and climbed out of the car. Her dress shivered in the summer breeze. It was beautiful, soft and shiny, blue and white with her blonde hair pinned back with a red tie. He'd fought her to put it on that day.

It was tasteful with a high collar, he knew how she felt about the scars on her chest being exposed.

She'd resisted, "No. Give me my yoga pants."

"You can't wear yoga pants to a Kennedy party, Jill. It's not that kind of shindig."

"Fine. So let's not go. You don't even want to go anyway!"

Right as she'd been, he knew they had to make an appearance anyway. So he'd pointed at the dress on the bed. "Put it on...please?"

She was in a towel fresh from the shower. She'd flipped him the finger and hugged her knees to her chest at the head of the bed, "Fuck off. I'm not wearing it."

With a heavy sigh, he'd caught her ankles and jerked her forward on the bed. She'd shouted, resisting him, and he'd caught the towel to jerk it away from her. She slapped at him, shouting. He'd won the fight for the towel.

It got him a kick to the chest as she'd run for the door.

As she ran for it, naked, he'd caught her around the waist and thrown her back on the bed. Her breasts skimmed his arm and made him angry. "Put the fucking dress on, now.. Or I will put it on you."

Her skin was flushed around the neck and chest. She was panting. She had a hand over her mound to cover herself.

He was losing his goddamn mind being around her. He wanted to rip her damn hand away and replace it with his mouth. So he snapped, "I mean it, Jill. Now."

And she'd shook her head: no.

He knew what she was doing. She was going for a spanking. Of course she was. She could handle the spanking. She liked it. He wasn't in the mood. He just wasn't. If he started spanking her, he was going to grope her and she didn't want that.

Softening his tone, he'd finally urged, "...please, Jill. I need you there. Do this for me."

If she'd said no then, she'd have been a bitch. So she'd picked up the dress without another word.

As they moved toward the door to the big estate, Jill's hand slid down and twined with his. Their fingers looped together and she held his hand so hard it throbbed as he knocked on the door.

They were greeted by a pretty faced maid who led them through the huge mansion made of every movie she'd ever seen and out into the yard that was decorated for the party. Flowering trees, flowing fountains, laughing faces - it was ridiculous. It was like a garden party at Buckingham Palace or something.

Jill stepped closer to his side. He managed to look casually dressy in a taupe colored waistcoat and matching slacks. The vest was over a pretty blue tie that matched Jill's dress and a crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows on his forearms. The glasses on his face - that hair of his grown long enough to shiver in the breeze- he looked like something you found in GQ.

To spite the old man, he hadn't shaved - so his stubbly jaw stood out among the clean shaven and the bearded like a rockstar among rodeo clowns.

It didn't take long for the Senator to locate them. Admittedly, Jill thought, he looked regal. He was tall, built huge and muscled, and had a shock of red hair over a bearded face. In a way, he looked like a meaner version of Barry.

The woman at his side looked heavily medicated and slightly out of it.

It had to be his mother - since her face was Leon's without the stubble. She smiled dreamily as they approached and greeted, "Leo - darling - you came."

Leon shifted to kiss her cheek, "Mom - been into the Valium this morning already, huh?"

His mother smiled sweetly. The Senator offered his bear paw to shake, "Leonard - couldn't be bothered to dress appropriately, I see."

Leon never let of her hand. Jill, clinging, stepped a little more into his side as he returned, "John - I wouldn't dress like the rest of these vultures if you paid me to do it."

His mother giggled and swayed. The Senator took her elbow and told Leon, "Grow up, son. Eventually you'll realize the only way to get ahead in this world is to play the game. These people? They're your future. I'd suggest you start acting like them."

His gaze shifted to Jill at Leon's side, "...and if you're going to bring a date, make sure it's not one you paid to be here. Christ son, your date is as cheap as the car you're driving. You're a _Kennedy, _start acting like one."

Jill, shamed, dropped her hand from Leon's arm.

They didn't even make it the half an hour. Without missing a beat, Leon caught the tray of canapes as the waiter beside them was passing, spilled the little treats into the grass, and swung the shiny silver thing right at his father. The Senator, caught off guard by the sheerly uncivilized response, couldn't stop it from hitting him clean in the face.

It rang. The conversation around them died in a trickle of shock, and Leon caught his father's tie, grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, and kicked him right in the ass to put him face first into the bubbling fountain filled with pretty Magnolias. It was so shocking that no one moved for a whole handful of moments.

Leon, dusting off his hands on his pants, invited, "Jill? You ready to go?"

His mother giggled a little as he passed, "Leo...you heathen."

He kissed her cheek, "Mom. This party is a stinker. You should go bowling."

She laughed. Jill meekly followed Leon up the stairs and he took her hand, blended their fingers, and crossed the huge mansion without a backward glance. She said nothing until they barreling down the road away from the Kennedy Estate.

Finally, she murmured, "...what the hell was that?"

He shrugged, "He's been trying to shit shame me my whole life, Jill, that's pretty typical - but he won't do it to you. He can say what he wants about me."

He turned the car up a small pathway and it bumped twice as it left the road for the dirt. Where was he going now? The little house they come upon was over looking the water. It was lots and lots of stairs above the water.

There were two cars parked in a fat driveway beneath flowering Dogwoods.

He tucked the Mustang beside a gray Silverado and Jill told him, "I don't care what he thinks of me, Leon. It doesn't matter."

To which he replied, "It matters to me. He doesn't get to talk about you that way. There's a limit to what a man like that can say and do. He doesn't get to call you a whore. Not now, not ever."

Her mouth was dry as she asked, "Why? Why do you care? They're just words."

Leon came around the car and opened her door for her, stating, "Words have power. He knows what he's doing. He's trying to use his to hurt me. He won't do it by attacking you. He doesn't have the right. I don't care who h-"

She stepped into him and he went silent as her forehead pressed against his chest and her fingers knitted into his vest. His hands opened at his hips while he hesitated to touch her and Jill whispered, "...big hero. You defending my honor?"

"I don't think you need me to do th-"

She kissed the bottom of his chin and he lost his voice again as she cut him off, "...thank you. I'm sorry I caused a fight."

His hands finally settled on her upper arms. He shook his head, adamantly, "Don't. It's not you. It's him. He's a bully, Jill. He'll use any weapon at all to hurt someone. I won't let him use you like a weapon against me. Ever."

Her heart stuttered. He'd said -I won't let him use you like a weapon, Jill.

_You're just a weapon, Jill. A weapon doesn't have feelings. It doesn't have a choice. It doesn't have a chance. It's only purpose is to kill. _

Wesker's voice in her head made her teeth clench. He had no place here. He had no place in her memories or her feelings or her heart. She wanted him gone, ripped out, purged. He was a bully. He'd use any weapon to hurt someone. He'd used her like a weapon and let others use her like a whore. She'd been currency to him and a puppet on a string.

Her eyes turned up as Leon continued, "People like John Kennedy abuse their power to make others feel small and helpless. He tries to make me his goddamn legacy. He couldn't get to the White House so he thinks that's where I belong. He tried to control everything about me growing up, from my hair to goddamn girlfriends to my car. So now? I enjoy showing him who I am. None of it, not a damn thing, is what he'd have chosen for me. I'm glad. Maybe I'm a disgrace. Maybe I'm a failure as a son. Maybe he's ashamed of me, but I'd rather he was ashamed than be the shell he wanted me to be."

He found her watching him, almost raptly, and flushed a little, "Sorry...shit. Sorry. Like you want to hear me life story, huh? Bitching with that silver spoon in my mouth, right? Sorry. We should go inside."

He took her hand again as they walked. At the door, he told her, "I want you to meet my Dad."

Jill felt her brows arch, "...but didn't we just-"

"No. That was my father. This? This my _Dad."_

He didn't even knock. He just walked in with her with him. The laughter from the deck with the wide open doors drew them out. At the table, a rousing game of Bullshit was happening. A pretty faced girl let out a whoop, "Bullllshit! Bullshit!"

A blonde with an apron slapped her cards on the table. "Someones cheating!"

A man with a moustache on the other side chuckled, "Mom - bullshit just ain't your game. Say it."

The blonde rolled her eyes, "I have biscuits in the oven, you cheaters."

She paused as she saw them in the doorway to the deck. She shouted with surprise and happiness. Jill let go of his hands as the woman threw herself into his arms, shouting loudly, "Adam! ADAM! Leon's here!"

She kissed his cheeks until he laughed, "You handsome devil! I didn't know you were coming! Why didn't you call!?"

From down the hallway, the Vice President of the United States emerged with two secret services agents dogging his every step. He was in an ugly hat with fish hooks on it and vest with lures strapped to the front. He was laughing.

"I told you the kids were coming, Helen. Remember?"

"I didn't know you meant ALL of our kids!" She kissed Leon again and turned her happy gaze to Jill, "...Oh my god...is this...?"

She trailed off and Leon laughed, "Yeah. This is her."

As Helen let go of Leon to turn to Jill, the vice president and his Director of Security embraced. Adam slapped his back so hard it echoed. "You liar! You said you were going to see John."

"I did."

Adam narrowed his eyes, "...and?"

"I put him on his face in the fountain."

There was a silence that settled before it was split by laughter. The girl on the porch hooted, "Anybody shocked?"

Helen put her hand out to Jill, "I've heard good things. Former BSAA?"

Jill, brows in her hair, shook the offered hand, "Uh...yes. Yes, I am."

"Leon said you were working together on assignment. I'm really happy to meet you. I was starting to resent you for keeping him hidden all this time."

Jill said nothing as Helen guided her to the kitchen and a table full of finger foods. No fancy canapes here, Jill thought, just pigs in blankets and sticks of veggies with dip. She helped herself to some celery as Helen continued, "I won't pry into the nature of the assignment, because I know my son wouldn't even share...but I'm really, really surprised to find you with him. I was hoping he'd bring you if he came for Christmas, but this is just as good."

Helen gestured to the porch, "That's my son, Ronnie, and my daughter in law, Megan."

From the porch, Megan called, "That's right. It's very incestuous. I married my own brother."

Before the shock set in, Helen clarified, "...Megan is Leon's sister. They're parents...well...they spent alot of time with us when John and Margot were...occupied."

Delicate, was the Vice President's first lady. Careful to avoid saying the truth: Leon's parents had been assholes. Maybe Margot hadn't always been, but she was so heavily medicated now that it didn't matter. He'd grown up the surrogate child of the second most powerful man in the world.

This? This was his family. He'd brought her home to meet his family.

She played Bullshit with his family. She ate hamburgers and listened to laughter and old stories. The waist coat and tie were gone and replaced with swim trunks as he went into the water with his family to swim. Jill sat on the shore in her dress and watched.

Adam Benford knew exactly who she was. She knew that. She knew he was aware of what she was doing with Leon.

He sat beside her in the sand and watched his family laugh and frolic and he told her, "In thirty-two years, I've never once known him to go up against something as hard as he did to secure your release."

Jill rolled her lip under as Adam continued, "He's a man with more dedication, more drive, and more determination in his pinky than most have in their whole body."

In the water, Leon tossed his sister into the rolling lake waves and had her shrieking with laughter. Jill studied him, the curls of scars, the perfect smile, the incredible ability to just..hope. She shook her head, "I don't know why. I'm not worth saving. He should have let me die."

Before she could stop it, the Vice President patted her knee and made her stiffen, "He never gives up, our boy. He doesn't know how. When we lost Kate in Raccoon City, he took it so hard. He grieved and fought against it and pledged himself to a fight to protect that little girl. He's a man with more loyalty than he has the skin to contain it."

Jill shook her head, denying, "He doesn't owe me anything. I didn't ask for his loyalty."

"No." Adam laughed, lightly, "We often don't. But you don't have to with Leon. You get it, whether you want it or not. The choice to give up really isn't yours anymore, Ms. Valentine, it hasn't been from the moment he decided he was going to save you...but I have a favor to ask you."

Jill arched her brows, "...I-I won't hurt him. I'll try."

And Adam laughed again, "I imagine it's too late to lie about that. He's told me plenty about your time together."

She doubted, seriously, he'd mentioned all the spanking in that house. She imagined he told Adam Befnord that Jill was "difficult" and "resistant to healing". She was fairly sure he'd never have told him about the sex she'd failed to have with him.

But Benford finished, "I want you protect him for me."

Jill felt her brain stutter, "W-what?"

"He's strong. He's talented and driven and the most promising agent I've seen in a long, long time...but he's my son. There was never a day that passed that I ever thought of him as John's boy. Not really. He's mine, and he's hurt. He's wounded. I can't reach him..."

Adam turned his gaze to her and seemed so serious it made her breath catch, "But you can. You have, in some way I didn't see coming. He might have taken you home to save you, Jill, but I think...I think you're still there to save him. Help him...for me, because I can't sit by and watch him slip away. Pull him back, so he can find a way to be whole again."

Jill's throat was so dry, "...Mr. President -"

"Not yet." He laughed and patted her knee as he rose, "Not yet. God willing, for now? It's Adam. Adam. The man asking you to take care of his son. Not an order, Jill, a request. Consider it."

He turned toward the house. Jill sat in the sand with the world spinning. Asked by the VP to protect his most valuable asset. Not his country, his son. The boy he'd raised to be his own.

Jesus.

She rose. She turned toward the house. She took one step and than another. She was running by the time she entered the woods. She ran until her breath heaved. The collar beeped to signal she'd gone too far so she backed up until it flashed white for safe distance. She leaned against the first tree she found and covered her face with her hands.

She couldn't do it. She wasn't Leon. She didn't have the ability to save anyone. She could barely stand to be outside let alone the only support for man on the edge! She wasn't capable of saving him. How did she tell the future President of the United States no?

She simply wasn't good enough to save Leon Kennedy.


	11. No Hope11

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Fireworks**

* * *

**Summer**

**-July 4th, 2010-**

* * *

The leaves crackled. She didn't have to move her hands to know he was there. Breathing hard, he mused, "Ya know...it's gonna be hard to explain why my coworker just took off like a shot into the leaves and I chased after her like a man possessed. I asked you not to run. Just once. Just one day time. Just _one day. _Can't you give me that?"

She shook her head, panicking, "I didn't run."

He scoffed.

She tried again, "I didn't. I swear. I...panicked. I did. I'm sorry. I'm really trying. I am."

He studied her and finally pulled her hands away from her face. Softening, he asked, "What? What is it? You want to come in the water with us down there? You can swim in the dress."

Jill shook her head, denying, "I-no...I can't."

"...you mean won't."

"No! I _can't." _She rolled her lip under, considered, and finally whispered, "...I'm not wearing any panties."

He froze.

She felt her face flame red. "...I know. I'm _sorry."_

He had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. "...why?"

She couldn't even look at him as she breathed, "I-I thought if I didn't wear any panties...and you found out...you'd be angry...and you -you'd take me home..."

Shit.

He could hear the laughter back by the house. Jill shook her head, making a small sound of embarrassment, "I'm an idiot. I was just being a bitch. Go back with your family. I won't run. I stopped when the collar told me. I won't run away. I promise. You...you need this time with them. Go on back and j-"

It was the first time he'd touched her unprompted. He pressed her bodily into the tree and stole her breath. His hands, both of them, went right up under her dress and gripped her ass. Jill made a small sound of need and pushed into him with her hips. Her hands caught fistfuls of his hair as he tilted her against the tree and kneaded her butt in his hands almost desperately. His voice shook, "You're trying to kill me, Jill. You know that, right?"

She tilted her face back and his mouth brushed hers. They both made some kind of frustrated noises as he growled, "...I _can't _here. Not here. I can't."

Can't what? She thought wildly, but she knew. The kneading hands on her ass, they weren't able to turn her over his knee like she wanted. Not here. Not now.

Jill gasped, trembling against him, "...I'm sorry."

He hated her fucking sorry. Angry, he grunted, "Shut up, Jill. Fuck your sorry."

His tongue speared into her mouth. It was more need than she'd ever felt from him. It made her belly tighten. It opened her mouth on a moan. She mewled a little as she answered his thrusting tongue with her own. The lance of fear nearly made her dizzy. It was mixed with some kind of want that had her hands grabbing his ass to hold on.

He tugged her butt and lifted her. Her legs opened and let him between them. She rolled her groin against the cold chill of his trunks and he was hard and ready through the cloth that rubbed obscenely against her naked mound.

Her mouth split from his on a panicked gasp, "No! No..no no...please."

Jesus. He let go of her like she'd burned him. As he backed off, she grabbed his wrist to halt him and shook her head, face pink.

He grouched, "Do _not _say sorry. I shouldn't have touched you like that."

She swallowed the urge to apologize and begged, "Just-not like that...just..."

She turned toward the tree. She put his hand on her ass under the skirt and tilted her hips at him. She was trying to make sure he dropped dead on the spot. He knew it.

With a surge of desperate need, he cursed, "Fuck it."

And threw her skirt up over hips to expose her whole bottom. She moaned, his hand came down, and he struck her three times while she gasped. His other hand skimmed between her legs and touched her. She was wet and swollen.

The urge to fuck her was so powerful that he was kinda afraid he'd try with his family a hundred yards away beyond the trees. His fingers pressed against the heat of her and she gasped, pushing back as she'd let him.

Someone down by the house called his name. This is what she did to him. He was losing his fucking mind here. He gripped her hips, making her gasp and jerked her back against his clothed groin.

She let out a gasping cry and urged, "No! Don't! Don't..."

He dry humped her throbbing bottom twice before he almost threw her away. He was a bastard. He just was. It was that simple.

Jill stumbled, nearly fell, and gasped, "...I'm so-"

"Shut up. Don't fucking say it anymore. Go back to the house. Make nice. Do that for me, Jill. Please."

He turned. He left her by the tree.

Jill covered her mouth with her hand and put her other one under her skirt. She touched herself, moaning, and squirmed desperately against her stroking fingers. She got close and pulled her hand away as if it had bitten her. She leaned on the tree and shivered, her thighs quivering.

She'd never felt more alive.

For him? It was like the greatest goddamn dry hump in history. He was drowning in feelings that confused and threatened his sanity here. She was victim and he was throwing her around and touching her and humping her ass like a fucking idiot monkey.

No was no. Jesus GOD he knew that. Yes, she was bent over and naked and swollen...but no was NO. He felt like a fucking piece of shit for hurting her.

It wasn't her fault that he'd lost his marbles at her admission about those panties. She'd done it to test him, sure, but that likely wasn't the response she'd expected. She probably figured he'd send her right home for being so tawdry at a fancy ass party.

He'd never grabbed her like that. She was probably scared shitless now. She was going to be the death of him, that was all he knew.

* * *

Sitting on the deck with a cigarette in his hand, Leon kept licking his teeth. In the chair beside him, Adam kept smirking. "Women?"

Leon let out a pained laugh, "...women."

"I've never seen you, in all your life, act like you do around her."

Surprised, Leon glanced at him, "...what?"

Adam tilted his head, "When did you start caring for her?"

Knocking the ashes into a dish, Leon sighed heavily, "I don't know. She's...a goddamn mess. She panics. She runs. She melts down. She fights me. Jesus Christ, Adam, she fights me at every turn. I can't get a handle on her. I can't figure her out. She's like lightning in a bottle. I never fucking know when she'll shock the shit outta me."

After a moment, Leon realized the other man was grinning. "...what's with the shit-eating grin?"

Adam chuckled and patted his wrists. "Son...you just described any woman on Earth worth keeping. My suggestion? You find a way to navigate that madhouse of emotion and discover why, for the life of you, you can't seem to stop holding on to her. Somewhere in that mess? You'll find the answer."

Leon shook his head. "What's the answer?"

Adam rose and patted his shoulder. He glanced down at where Helen was laughing and running from her children in the water. "I can't tell you that. Some things are better left unspoken."

Sighing, Leon wondered, "...are you really gonna put John on the ticket with you to run?"

Adam smiled gently, "He was a terrible father, Leon. There's no getting around that, but John is a man made for the White House. He'll make an excellent VP."

"...he'll make my life hell in that office, Adam. You know that."

"Then it's a good thing I'll be there to make sure he doesn't...I've always valued your loyalty, Leon. You know that. I think there's someone else out there who needs it now more than ever. Focus on that..and let me worry about the White House."

As he moved down toward the laughing revelry, Jill emerged from the trees. She padded barefoot up to the deck. She took the chair beside Leon and chewed her lips. When he ignored her to watch the sunset over the water, she finally reached over and put her hand on his knee.

Without a word, his free hand moved down and gripped hers.

What was the answer? He didn't know. Genius or not, there was no help for any man on the mysteries of a woman.

* * *

He barely spoke a word to her as they turned back onto the road. He'd been genial and happy all through the dinner with his family. The second the dinner ended, he'd escorted her back to the car to drive her home.

The dark settled around the car as they turned onto the country road that would take them to the highway.

Jill felt a little sick with guilt as he stared into the dark, watching the headlights on the road. She rolled her lower lip under, turning her gaze finally to his profile. With trepidation, she queried, "...you still mad at me?"

Leon scoffed. He shook his head. "Jill...sit over there and be quiet. Please. I'm asking you nicely. Just sit there."

Feeling her face flame in shame, she returned, "I tried."

He laughed, harshly, "What?"

"I tried. I did. I tried to be good. I don't fucking know how to just...be happy like everyone there. I'm sorry."

He was so sick of her sorry. She was sorry for every god damn thing. He snapped, "You don't need to apologize. Ok? Are you listening?"

She nodded, rapidly, "I hear you."

"Good. You don't have to apologize to me for that. For any of it. Stop it. Stop saying sorry. I should be the one who's sorry."

Surprised, she looked up at him. "...what?"

"Yeah. Me. I keep fucking touching you. I'm stupid. It's me. You're a goddamn trauma victim and I put my hands on you back there. I'm the one who should be sorry here. I'm losing my mind or something. I don't know what the hell to do anymore. I shouldn't have touched you like that."

She was so quiet. He drove in silence for awhile before she reached over. She took his hand off the wheel and brought it over to her. She held it on her lap. His jaw flexed with guilt and anger.

This wasn't going to help her. He'd hurt her or scared her back there. His damn dick wanted to plow her until he filled her up and it ran down her thighs in a river. He was losing his marbles.

She deserved better than some horny bastard grabbing her like that. He started to apologize into the silence and she shifted his hand. She slid it up her thigh. Softly, she told him, "...I'm not afraid of you."

He had to swallow twice to speak, "You should be."

Jill denied that, vehemently, "No. No. Not you. It's me. I...even before...there was only one. One guy. After Raccoon, I escaped with him. I let him...it seemed stupid in light of nearly dying to hang on to my virginity...so I gave it away. I let him. It lasted eight seconds on a hard cot on a ship. He-he just pulled up my skirt and pushed my panties to the side...I don't know how to-it's not you."

What in the hell was wrong with the men in her life? He'd have traded a testicle for a woman like this to have wanted him back then. What kind of stupid bastards had she run around with in those days?

She'd loved one who was too gay to love her back and given herself to another that was too stupid to appreciate the gift of it. She'd lost herself in the hands of men who'd made a mockery out of something that should have been beautiful for her.

He felt even worse now for roughing her up like a brute in the woods. "...Jill...I'm so fucking sorry."

But she denied that again. She slid his hand up her thigh further. "...I need you to let me try something else...you can say no. I know - I know last time I just-I fucked that up. I know that."

Was she kidding?

Leon eased the car to the side of the road in the canopy of some trees. The fireworks flickered in the night sky from celebrations. Independence Day. Was this hers? Could he actually sit here and help her find that?

Jill trembled as he turned toward her. She shook her head, "Could-would...could you just not look at me? I know that's weird...I just...please?"

He turned his gaze back to the night sky beyond the windshield. She slid his hand up until it touched the heat of her. Quietly, she whispered, "...I want you to touch me. You can touch me now."

Holy god in heaven he was going to be sainted for surviving her. It was really as simple as that. Without a word, he turned his wrist and slid a finger into her. She made a small sound and grabbed his wrist, holding him still.

Shaking, she begged, "..wait...wait wait."

He did, utterly still. Bracing herself, she finally allowed, "...ok. Ok. You can just-"

His thumb shifted and slid against her clit. She gasped. She humped at his hand without realizing it. She damped his finger until he slid another one in to join the first. Her mouth parted on a gasp and he just...he had to look at her.

He had to.

He shifted in the seat. He hit the release on the seat belt. Jill moaned and gripped his forearm, holding him in her. Fuck. She rolled her hips and started moving against his fingers as he worked them in and out of her. His thumb circled. She whined softly, her legs quivering.

When she arched her back, he shifted completely toward her in his seat and put his other hand in place of his thumb. He used both on her, one stroking her, one working. She grabbed wildly at his shoulders and crudely rode his hand.

He wanted to _see _her naked in that seat while he touched her. It was frustating as all hell. It was somehow the most incredible feeling in the world.

Her spine bowed like she'd been zapped with a shock road. Her thighs fell open and her feet pushed until she was facing him in the seat with her back against the door and her legs spread as much as the damn interior of the car would allow. Obscene? No..._beautiful._

Jill's hands grappled, fisting over the handle above the door. Her eyes were closed, her body jerking, her hips rolling. He had a moment to wonder if she'd ever had an orgasm before. What if she'd panicked that first night because she didn't know what the hell she was feeling?

She gasped. She panicked the second her body seized around his fingers. She started to retreat and he soothed her, "It's ok. Look at me. Now, Jill. Look at me."

Her eyes snapped open. He shifted to his knees in the seat and leaned over the center console. Her hands grabbed his face and he told her, "Let it happen."

The panic on her had sympathy rolling, "...I can't. I can't. I can't."

"You can." His voice was hard but coaxing, "You can. Lean up. Lean up here and kiss me."

She trembled. Her eyes filled with tears. "...it hurts."

Shaking his head, he told her, "I know. I'll fix it. Trust me. _Kiss me."_

She did. She arched her next and kissed him. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and circled his fingers over her clit. He felt her body seize. She whined into his mouth and her breath hitched. She pulled his hair and moaned.

He slid a third finger into her and that was it. She was done. She humped against his hand and came. Wet. It was wet. She bucked, gasping, and thrust her tongue into his mouth almost madly. She made a sound like she was in pain and tears spilled down her cheeks.

Fuck.

He watched her face and adored her. He adored her. It was that simple. She was a fucking nightmare of a woman - and he wanted her. He shifted in the seat to press her more into the door. He wanted to be close to her for one damn minute while she came.

Her hands grappled at his neck. She drug him into her. Her humped his hand wedged between their bodies.

A poor substitute for being inside of her, but he took it.

She whined against her mouth, eyes closed and throbbing, "...oh my god..."

Yeah. It was. It was like that. Testing the moment, he kissed her softly. She relaxed in inches and opened her mouth for the softness of it. His hands slid off her wet body and around to palm her ass. He tugged her in and rolled her against his groin, hating himself for being a good guy and not fucking her while she trembled.

The gear shift crammed against his hip and reminded him he couldn't fuck her here anyway.

Reluctantly, he let her go and leaned back in the driver seat.

Jill huddled in the seat as he quietly, so quietly, turned the car back on the road. After a handful of seconds, his hand slid off the gear shift. It moved over her knee and Jill snatched it, almost desperately, and tucked it between her legs against the wet of her.

She made a small moan and blended their fingers over her body while she trembled.

Leon figured, at the end of this drive, he was likely to be sainted. Her head settled against his biceps. She hitched out a few breaths and clung to him. Maybe it wasn't fucking, but it was something.

* * *

As he keyed them into the apartment, he told her gruffly, "I'd like to take you somewhere in a few days...I have someone I'd like you to meet."

Jill nodded, chewing her lips again as he opened the door to the softly lit apartment. He went on, "She could use some training. I think she'd really benefit from knowing you. I don't know how well you'll do leaving here again so soon though."

He set his keys on the kitchen table and reached for the bottle of scotch on the counter. "If you want, I can bring her here to-"

She slid against his back. His hand froze on the bottle. Her hands clutched at his chest as she laid her cheek against his back. Leon let go of the bottle and laid his hands over hers. He turned his cheek over his shoulder and she lifted her face to press a kiss to his chin.

Fuck.

She was trying to kill him.

Or they were going to kill each other. He wasn't sure, but either way - it was deadly.

Jill whispered, heatedly, "I'll do it. Whatever you need. I'll do it. Don't be angry, ok? Just don't be an-"

Leon put a hand over her mouth, shaking his head, "I'm not angry at you, Jill. I'm not. I don't think I'm helping you here. I just keep touching you and that's not right. I just don't th-"

She covered his mouth too. They blinked at each other in the light from the stove. Jill shifted her mouth and he moved his hand enough to let her speak. "Shut up. Do you hear me? Take the fucking world off your goddamn shoulders and just shut up for once."

Jill let go of him while he twitched his mouth on a smile. She turned away and went toward the bedroom. He listened to her close herself in and his hand hesitated on the bottle of scotch.

He tapped two fingers against it and poured a shot. With a hiss, he threw it back. The heat was comforting, as always, and gave him the liquid courage to go right into the bathroom and take care of himself.

That was part of the problem here. He kept guilting himself over wanting her. Because she was a victim, and a mess, and a prisoner - he kept feeling like wanting her was perverse. It wasn't. It was mortal. He was normal. Well, not exactly, but he wasn't a freak. He was just a guy with a girl in an apartment who was always fighting him and rubbing her groin on his knees and climbing on his lap and running away.

Maybe if he stopped fighting it as hard as she was fighting him, he could get some measure of peace.

Shit. If he stopped, for just a second, he could still _feel _her around his dick. He could still _feel _her around his fingers. The problem wasn't Jill. Not really. She was testing limits and trying his patience and pushing - she was the goddamn prisoner here, right? She was a trauma victim coming out of her shell. Him? He was the guy wishing she'd stop teasing him and just put out.

As if it were that simple.

He set the scotch on the floor beside the big tub and filled it with fragrant water. He even dumped some of that stupid bath shit in there that Jill left around. It made the room smell like a bonfire on a beach.

When it was swirling, he slid naked into the heat and set his head back against the rim of the tub. The New York night watched him, peaceful somehow, even with the flash of fireworks across a cavernous dark sky. The city that never slept wasn't judging him - there was enough of that already happening in the tub.

He reached his fingers down for the scotch glass on the ground and knew, instinct or skill or common sense, that he wasn't alone anymore..

His eyes opened. She stood in the doorway watching him.

Holding her gaze, he lifted the glass to his mouth and sipped. His left hand made a wide gesture at the water, inviting her.

Jill padded over the tiles in bare feet. She climbed into the tub without a word in the dress she wore. Wet, it clung to them both as she settled with her back to his front. He simply shifted his legs to let her in. Without words, it was clear what this was.

He handed her the glass of scotch and she sipped it, handing it back.

When it was back on the floor beside the tub, she took his hands and curled them around her. She turned her head until her cheek rested on his collarbone. She slipped his hands over her silk clad breasts and let him hold her that way.

Her face tilted enough to invite the press of his mouth. Soft.

It was so fucking soft.

And he was hard against her back beneath that stupid dress.

Her request seemed simple enough when she uttered, "...tell me a story."

Right. He wanted to put her over the tub and drill her like a bull in mating season, but she wanted a story. To satisfy himself, he shifted and her dress skimmed up enough to let him let his dick settle against the bottom of her bare butt.

So...not really an improvement, but he was already guaranteed a seat on the bullet train to hell anyway...so whatever.

And he just started talking.

He told her about Raccoon City, about Ada and the betrayal, about his own complicity in allowing her to escape. He talked about life after Raccoon and the training they'd put him through. The typical type of brainwashing one might encounter when making a spy.

He was taught to resist torture, to self terminate if he was ever caught without hope of retrieval, to fight his way out alone against impossible odds. He was the best they'd seen in a long time, they told him, because he didn't forget anything. The curse of a photographic memory.

Jill laid in his arms and thought she'd never imagined he was so lonely. The handsome hero in his tower - he was all alone. Like Batman and every great brooding storybook knight, he was waiting for another life to save - and leaving himself a martyr in solidarity.

As he spoke, his hands just palmed her breasts over that dress. She listened, rolling her hips in the water in a way that made him half sure he was going to drop dead if she stopped. When she didn't stop him, he kneaded her until her nipples peaked.

Yep. Hell. That's where he was.

And his mouth? Just kept on blabbering.

Blah blah blah, Bolivia and Krauser betraying him, blah blah blah, BOWS and drugs via the cartel. He was just spouting off like he was giving a report. The dress bunched around her waist he shifted his hands to take the hem like he'd pull if off her.

She grabbed his wrists and shook her head, "...no. Please."

"Damnit, Jill, let me see you."

She shook her head, shivering, "...no...don't."

Frustrated, he slid his hand down and palmed her groin instead. She gasped. She shivered. His other hand wrapped around her throat to turn her head toward him. She moaned. She turned her mouth. He didn't kiss her, nope, he just kept talking. Like a fucking idiot or something.

He started to put his fingers in her and she caught his wrist to hold him. She closed her thighs around his hand instead and held it there against him. She felt him shiver in rejection so she leaned in while he was talking.

"...and that's when I decided maybe I was better off in ch-"

The second she kissed him, he just surrendered. His body melded to hers. His legs looped around hers snuggled instead of braced. His hand slid over her breast again to knead and his other one tugged her tightly against the front of his body. A hug, almost, kinda...almost...save for the fingers that cupped against her body begging for entrance.

He was smooth and warm against her butt and back, just pressed there, hard and ready...and he didn't do a damn thing about it. He didn't throw her down. He didn't hurt her. He just kissed her back.

The kiss released. She rolled over on him until her front was against his. His hands slid up and cupped her butt under the dress. She took his face and told him, "...I'm trying. I...I'm trying. Why can't you just...I don't know how I feel anymore..."

His erection brushed her belly. He tugged her hair back to see her face and he told her, gruffly, "I meant what I said...I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want, Jill. You don't have to do a goddamn thing. Alright?"

She dipped her hands in the water and slicked his hair back from his face, almost angrily, "Get this shit outta your face and let me see you."

The only woman in the world that hated his hair. Gently, he teased her, "It's my thing, sweetheart, what would I be without it?"

And her answer? Floored him. "...real."

She was fucking right about that. One more armor to hide behind it seemed. So he told her, "Whatever time you need, Jill, you take it. I'm never going to push you. You'll have to learn to trust me."

She nodded. She laid her ear on his chest. His dick twitched against her belly. He shifted his hands until he was holding her. What had she yelled at him? Cuck, she'd said, was he? A man willing to settle for whatever a woman gave him.

In this case, what she gave him in this tub? Was more than any woman in his life had ever done. Sex or not, he'd never, ever let someone in his tub let alone his life.

Eventually, he figured he'd simply burst from too much inside of one body. If he was lucky, she'd let him inside her when it happened.


	12. No Hope12

**A/N: **_I know this one is on a roll, honestly it and my crossovers with Devil May Cry and Parasite Eve are really taking all my attention. It gets me up at 2 am to write.I havent done that in years. _

_I think this story will take us to a wholly new version of 6. Part One is Jills recovery. Part Two will cover the out come of the events that unravel. Big things coming, if I dont poop out. x_ X_

_Life in a small fandom can be a push, thank you- all of you- for keeping the inspiration alive. Any ideas on my other stuff, always hit me up. It keeps me writing._

* * *

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Three Blondes**

* * *

**Summer**

**-September 8th, 2010-**

* * *

It took him a little longer to get out of the city than he'd hoped. By the time he'd secured the release of enough red tape to get them moving, it was headed toward the end of Summer. Jill was softer to him somehow after the fourth.

She'd been more eager to behave. She still tried to take flight when he got too close, but she didn't push him until he snapped anymore. She'd resisted leaving that morning, objecting and warning him, "Why do we have to leave? Just bring them here. You have this whole place!"

"Just get in the car, Jill. Please?"

She'd pushed the suitcase he'd been packing off the bed and spilled all the contents onto the floor. Like a petulant child, she was acting out in hopes he'd stop the trip. She was that scared of leaving.

"...really?"

Jill shook her head, and started slapping at his hands as he bent to retrieve things. "Stop, Jill. Now."

"I'll fart in the car."

Surprised, he raised his brows, "What?"

"I mean it. If you make me go, I'll hot box you. I'll lock the windows and stink you out. I'll scream for help at every gas station until someone calls the cops. I'll force you to shove me in the trunk. I'll f-"

He'd pressed her into the wall and stole her breath. She'd gone silent, eyes wide watching him. He spoke, gently, "You're going. If you do any of that, it won't change that fact. It's happening. Go get ready and stop making this difficult. Ok?"

The wild panic on her face told him she was going to do something stupid. He really, really, really tried to circumvent it. "...I mean it, Jill. Go pack. Don't make me get mean here."

In answer?

She grabbed his left nipple and just...twisted. In fairness, there was fewer things that hurt worse in the world than a titty twister. He shouted, she kicked him in the hip to spin him around and she kicked his butt as he stumbled, putting him on his face on the bed. Before he could do much, she slapped his ass three times, shouting, "I will make your life _hell, _Kennedy! HELL! Do you hear me!?"

Face down on the bed, nipple throbbing, he muttered in the mattress, "It isn't already?"

Jill shouted in anger and bit him.

She bit him.

Like a toddler told they had to take a nap, she bit him. She put her mouth to his butt and just...bit down. In all the fantasies he'd had about biting her ass, it hadn't ever gone down quite like this.

The positions were reversed. He was wearing running shorts. And she was definitely not naked beneath him.

Her teeth sank in and had him shouting in pain. "_Bitch!"_

_"I will do that every minute we're on the road!"_

Ok. He tired, he really did, to be angry at her, but the laughter burst out in a frustrated bark. "Jill! How is that even possible!? I'll be _driving_!"

She slapped his face as he rolled over to look at her. It stung. He grunted. This woman would be the death of him. He caught her wrist and slung her on the bed while she squeaked.

"Stop it, you psycho."

"Me!?" She kicked him in the chest when he lunged for her and rolled off the bed. Sadly, he caught her shorts she was wearing and they snapped her butt like a wet towel as she went, causing her to plop on the floor more than roll. "Why do you want to force me out of this house?! I thought you were supposed to keep me here! Why do you keep making me leave!?"

There was a roll of sympathy under the frustrated amusement. Rubbing his aching butt cheek, he blocked her at the door to the bedroom. He mirrored her like a goalie in a hockey game, blocking her shot.

"It'll be good for you, I swear to god. Just trust me. Please? Can't you do that?"

Panicking, she denied that too. "What is it? You can't be around me here anymore? Is it me? I'm trying! I'm really trying! What can I do? Do you want..." Her face was pale but determined, "You want me to fuck you? Is that it? If I fuck you...can we stay? Can we just- I can try to do that. I'll try. I can try."

She trailed off into a whisper almost. She had to be fucking freaking out like mad to even offer it.

Throbbing with empathy, he caught her wrist and tugged her into him. She went, curling against his chest with her fingers knotted in his shirt. He pressed his forehead to the top of her head and soothed, "...that's the worst offer of sex I've ever gotten. Ever. Look at me."

She did, eyelids trembling, and he told her calmly, "I don't need you to use your body to bargain with me, or get my attention, or get me to do what you want. Do you understand me?"

She said nothing and he added, "I don't want to fuck you, Jill."

Who in the hell was lying now!?

So he clarified, "Not like that. Not unless it's what you want too. Not unless it's good and right and not ugly and like a weapon. You don't have to use your body against me. I'm not punishing you by taking you out of here. Honest to god, I need your help with something. If it's too much...we can come back. Ok? But I will not leave you. Ever. Not for a second, if that's what you want."

Jill made a small sound of fear and he added, "I'll be right there watching you drop a deuce and helping you wipe if that's what you need."

Her mouth twitched. She shook her head. Finally, she whispered, "...I'm sorry I bit you."

He cleared his throat and let her go. "Yeah. Turns out? Not at all like a good porno. That shit hurts."

And then? Because his life wasn't hard enough? She tucked her hand down the back of his damn shorts and rubbed it. She rubbed his butt cheek. She rubbed it while he was bent over cleaning up the mess of clothes she'd tossed in her madness.

She stuck her hand right up the back of his thigh and just rubbed.

"I'm sorry. Is that better?"

There was a special place in heaven for him. He was sure of it now.

Without missing a beat, he returned, "Kiss it and make it better."

Jill tugged her hand free, laughing, and slapped his ass. "You _wish _I would kiss your ass, Kennedy!"

She finally moved to the other closet to start packing and he returned, "Actually? I'd like to kiss yours. What'dya say? Feel bad enough to let me?"

He liked the laughter. It was full body and real. She did it more now than she ever had. She'd let him touch her in that car and it had opened some door in her for him to slowly poke a toe through.

She didn't seem to resent liking him anymore.

* * *

Now she stood facing the other blonde in his life like a statue.

Quietly, he told her, "This is Sherry, Jill. She's the newest agent to the DSO. I'd like you to train her."

Sherry, short blonde hair bouncing, offered her hand, "Oh, god. I'm so excited. I couldn't believe it when he suggested it. I'm so honored you'd take me under your wing. I was-I was there, ya know? In that wrestling tournament the BSAA had during the recruitment drive? I was too young to join, so I was just coattails riding with Leon that day...but I saw you take down that big guy. I'd never seen anybody move like that before...it was incredible."

She was rambling, but Jill was so quiet. She was staring at Sherry in a way that made the other blonde nervous. "I-I...it's really great to finally meet you."

She looked at Leon for help and he winked at her to encourage her before Sherry added, "I'm pretty versatile. I also take commands pretty well. I don't shy away from a good butt kicking too, huh?"

Into the moment, Jill returned, "A good butt licking huh? Yeah. I would imagine. How about a butt biting? Your boyfriend over there loves it, by the way."

Sherry's eyes turned to dinner plates of blue. Jill laughed harshly and turned away, stating, "Yeah. Fuck this shit. No."

She left the small gym where they were all standing. The compound where Sherry was held was fully equipped. It left her a bit of a gilded bird in a cage, but it meant she was well protected too.

Sadly, it also meant there was no where for Jill to run.

She stepped outside and started across the huge courtyard. She heard him coming, of course she did, and warned him, "Don't _you_ touch me."

Right. As if that would ever stop him.

He grabbed her arm. She turned and hit him in the solar plexus with the heel of her hand for it. She straight up tried to lay him flat. It was a good move and one he hadn't expected. It took his breath and hunched him over.

From the doorway of the gym, Sherry shouted, "HEY!"

She came running as Jill spat, "You drag me across the state to train your _girlfriend_ to fight? Is that it? What is she, you fucking asshole, the young version of me? She's hardly more than a _child, _you _pervert. _I should put you on your ass."

To her surprise, Sherry shouted, "You take your hands off him or I'll break your wrist! I'm not a child! And you're a bully!"

Wow. The little squeaky thing had some power in that tiny voice. Jill laughed and backed off, "He's all yours honey. Do me a favor, would ya? Keep him. I don't want any part of him."

Jill hurried across the courtyard while Sherry put her hand on his back, "You ok? Jesus. They said she was fucked up, but what was that?"

Rubbing his sternum, he laughed as he rose. "That was jealousy, sweetheart. She's jealous of you."

Sherry laughed, eyes twinkling, "Why?"

After a few beats of silence, her mouth opened and she got it. "Ohhhhhh. Ohhhh my. Really? She doesn't seem your type."

Brows arched, he looped an arm over her shoulders as he guided her toward where Jill was being way laid from the gates by two guards. She was stamping her foot and pouting, clearly. "What's my type?"

With a chuckle, Sherry told him, "I actually have no clue, but if you'd asked me if it was her...I'd have said no. She seems so..."

She trailed off, too sweet natured to accuse, and he filled in, "Bitchy?"

Sherry giggled a little.

"Insane?"

She laughed again.

"Hard up?"

And now the little blonde slapped his back where her arm draped, "Now I just think you're talking about yourself. Let loose a little, Leon, and maybe you won't have girls trying to rupture your diaphragm."

As they reached Jill where she stood, she looked horrified and confessed, "...they told me she's Birkin. Sherry Birkin. I'm so sorry. I didn't put it together. She's the girl you rescued in Raccoon, right?"

Sherry nodded, happily, "Rescued with Claire and protected when she left us."

She put her hand out and the women finally shook. Jill gave Leon a pitiful look, "I'm so sorry."

Wasn't she always?

He shrugged, rubbing his sore chest, "Wasn't the first time, won't be the last, princess. We both know that. I'm gonna go see Simmons and let you two get to know each other."

With a second of hesitation, Jill finally chewed her lip a little and reached over to squeeze his forearm. Nothing. Not really, but for her? It was almost as good as the apology. He gave her a wink for the effort.

Did he have something his eye? What was that?

He moved across the courtyard. Sherry watched Jill's face as he went. So, the lightning strike went both ways, she thought happily, that was good. It was great in a way that she hadn't expected. He'd been alone for so long.

One of her greatest fears in life was that he'd put the job first and never be happy. There was no one who deserved to be happy more.

When Claire had left them to go after Chris, Leon had stayed by her side. He'd been so young, unsure, not exactly comfortable with a girl her age, but he'd done his best to bond with her. It didn't take long.

They'd spent the better part of the morning before the agents had come getting to know each other. He'd been wounded and tired and scared of what came next, the same as she. He'd bathed some of the filth off her in the bathroom and rebound her wounds. She'd leaned on his arm to rest with the sun on them.

Somehow, after all of it, he'd gotten her to laugh. She didn't think she'd ever be able to again, but Leon was so utterly hopeful. He didn't know how to let you dwell in your own misery. He ripped you, screaming, out of it whether you wanted him to or not.

She wondered if he was doing the same for Jill.

Jill engaged her in training the way he'd wanted. Sherry was quick and determined. She hit and rolled and rebounded. She didn't pull her punches. She snapped and slapped and learned.

At one point, Jill elbowed her right in the face and the crunch of her nose breaking was so loud it echoed in the gym.

Horrified, Jill grabbed for the girl as she stumbled back, "Sherry! Jesus, I'm so sorry."

Sherry waved her hand, catching the pooling blood in her palm as it dripped on the floor, "...it's ok." She sounded so nasally as she spoke, "Just wait a minute."

"We should get you to the do-"

It didn't even take a minute. It was done in seconds. Jill watched her nose reknit on her face with wide eyes and Sherry confessed, "G-Virus. Turns out...I'm a walking BOW."

Blinking, Jill returned, "I haven't had a cold since before Raccoon City fell."

Sherry felt her smile turn up a watt. "Great. We're both freaks. Maybe that's why he wanted us to hang out."

Jill's smile echoed hers. The little blonde was adorable somehow with blood splashed all over her face. She knew why Leon wanted her to hang with Sherry. She didn't even need to ask him.

He didn't want either of them to be alone anymore. Sherry was trapped here in this place. Jill was trapped inside a cage of her own phobias and trauma. Here, in this moment, it was clear that there was hope for both of them.

They could be freaks together, it seemed.

She was rapidly starting to understand why everybody loved Leon Kennedy.

* * *

Meeting with Simmons had been a disaster. The Security Adviser was a natty beard on a skinny face wearing blowhard. He was a pompous pencil dick with less brains than balls.

He spent a good twenty minutes listing all Leon's faults like some kind of parrot. When he was done with that, he'd simpered nasally, "I do hope you haven't brought that broken weapon of Wesker's into my compound with the intent of leaving it. I don't know why she wasn't put in front of firing squad and executed on sight or turned over to the torturers down at Guantanamo until she talked. Giving her to you is just like saddling you with a ticking time bomb. A hopeless case like that is better off six feet under if you ask me."

Quietly, voice hard, Leon had told him, "She's a soldier on the front lines of your fight out there, Simmons. She was taken, abused, traumatized and tortured. She's lucky to be alive, let alone functioning. She's a patriot. And you'd rather we just put her down like a rabid dog?"

"She's a monster. If she was at Wesker's side for that long? She's not even a functioning member of society anymore. She's a liability. The second you turn your back, she'll stick a knife in it. You're a valuable asset to the DSO, Leon, it would be in your best interest to regard yourself with the utmost care with her. Damaged, you're no good to us."

He'd licked his teeth. He wanted to punch Simmons teeth down his goddamn throat. That's all they were to him, these people he sent out to die for the fight, statistics and assets and property. Sherry - that he poked and prodded to further his own purposes and Leon that he used like a dog set loose from its leash and Jill like a broken toy that couldn't be fixed that he wanted to cast into the fire and burn to ash.

Nothing. They were nothing to him. Weapons - no better than Wesker. Toys. Drones. Disposable commodities.

Rising, chewing his anger like something he'd choke on, Leon told Simmons, "Don't you worry_, _I can protect myself."

"Good. I need you top notch, Kennedy, for the safety of our nation. I'd like to see you installed as a personal guard for the Vice President during his campaign."

Leon nodded. He shook hands and felt the urge to wash his when he left the room. Since he rarely went against his feelings like that, he headed right into the rooms they'd set up for him and Jill.

He'd stopped in to watch them train as he'd passed by. Sherry had potential to be the best he'd seen in a long time. Putting her with Jill was brilliant. It gave Jill purpose and broke her out of her cage of isolation a little more. It left Sherry with someone who would understand her maybe better than anyone else ever could.

He'd known at the fourth of July that Jill needed more than just him. Good as things were going, he couldn't risk her backsliding based on her attachment to him. He had to carefully make sure she didn't get stuck to him in an unhealthy way. Letting her attach to him and sponge off him for her own needs was one thing, but setting himself up as her only life support was stupid and dangerous.

He put his head down under the spray in the shower. He put one hand on the wall near his head and braced. He wasn't going to blame Jill for using him to heal. It was ok. It wasn't hurting him to let her. It was just leaving his balls blue and his heart a little raw for her.

What if something happened to him? What if he died and left her? If he was her only tether, she'd implode or float away or get herself killed. He was sure of it. He needed her to have something else holding her down.

It was ok, here and now, to admit he wanted to hold her down. Hell, he wanted to let her hold him down again and use him. Part of the frustration was the attraction. It was cloying. It left him a little dizzy. He knew it wasn't entirely on his side, but it wasn't the same for her. She was just trying to find a sexual place that didn't frighten her again. Him? He just wanted to fuck her.

Sadly, he wasn't that goddamn deep. He wanted to go balls deep in her body and watch her face while she took him. In fact, he pictured it now and put his hand around himself to take care of the need.

The heavy heat of the steam relaxed the muscles in his back and shoulders. He rolled his head. There was a soft splash of feet in the shower. He stopped breathing...and she pressed against his back. Like she'd known he was thinking of her. She whispered, "I'm sorry I hurt you before. Let me help you."

The clothes she wore were cold against his skin. He started to slide his hand off his body and hers tremulously joined it instead. Yep, he thought wildly, he was probably going to hell for letting her.

He started to resist, gasping, "Honey, you don't-"

And she whispered, "Shhh...shhh...no more talking. Let me try."

Hell.

His body relaxed. His hand on his dick let hers beneath it. She moaned a little and tugged. Jesus, even her touch was unskilled. Soft somehow, and scared. He lopped their fingers and helped her.

Jill sandwiched to his back and listened to the wild beat of his heart behind his shoulders. He shuddered in her arms and made her pulse speed. She had no idea there was this much power in touching a man.

He didn't grab her and hurt her. He didn't throw her down and plow her. He didn't do anything but let her touch him. Softly, sweetly, she wondered, "...is it good? Does that feel good?"

It was the first time in his life a woman had needed to ask that with a hand around his dick. Under the need for her was some kind of rage at what she'd never experienced - that first time with a man who cared about her and wanted to see her pleasure. That first sweet awakening. She'd lost that. It had been ripped from her in a kind of trauma and torture that had left her scarred and scared and unsure.

Shaking, he invited, "...come around against the wall, Jill."

She felt his breath hitch twice and he slowed their movements on his body as he gruffed, "It's ok. Come around me."

She ducked under his arm and slid against the wall. There was some kind of brightness to his eyes that made her breath fall out in a shaky pant. He nodded, his mouth turned up in a smile and he told her, "Yeah. It's like that. Watch my face, ok? Watch me."

She nodded. He took her hand and wrapped it around him again. She started sliding her fingers up and down with his hand over hers to guide her. Her mouth was dry. Her eyes darted desperately around his face as they touched him together.

Was this what it was like for him in the car? Touching her, did it look like that on her face while he'd done it? Jill lifted her mouth. She pressed a kiss against his as his eyes fluttered. The hand on the wall beside her head curled. His hips moved against their stroking palms.

She felt her belly seize and skimmed her fingers over the hood of his dick along the sticky slit of him. She wondered what he'd do if she put it in her mouth. The idea made her panic. Her throat seized in fear.

Nope. Not that. Not now. No.

So she kissed the cleft in his chin again and offered, "...you-you can touch me ba-"

Yep. He didn't need her to finish. His hand slid off the wall and right down into her pants. She gasped, their hands clenched and rolled along his throbbing shaft, and he found her with his fingers. Ripe. Slick. Ready.

Jill's face collapsed in a kind of emotion he couldn't name. It was probably what was all over his face too. No doubt. He pinned her against the wall as they touched each other, as they touched him.

She whimpered a little as her other hand joined his on her body. It touched the needy jut of her clit and rolled. And there they were, he thought wildly, just two people playing together in the shower.

Her eyes fluttered, her body tightened, and he grunted, "Look at me."

She did. She did even as he felt her cum. She opened her mouth on a high pitched sound and he swallowed it, sealing her mouth to his. She moaned, bucking on his hand, and he pinned her there to the wall while she bucked and rubbed himself like a pervert on her while they stroked him. Fuck it, he decided, and just gave up. His hand slid off his dick and grabbed hard into her hair, making her gasp.

He angled her face back and fucked her mouth with his tongue and came all over her hand and her stupid yoga pants. He kept his fingers in her while he did it, thrusting like some horny boy against her hip. Her hand came off his body, they both slid around his hips and down his ass. She gripped him and tugged him into her as he went.

Shit.

The sexiest thing he'd ever done in his life and he didn't even fuck her.

As their mouths broke, he groaned against her lips, "...shit shit shit."

And Jill trembled in his arms, clutching him. It felt like he'd blown a nut cumming, and he was a little dizzy with the release and the steam in the shower. His mouth kissed wetly down the side of her neck and he used the hand that one once been in her hair to slide up under the stretchy top she wore and touch her breast.

He wanted to put his mouth all over her.. So he told her, "I wanna be inside you, Jill."

Yep. Wrong. Wrong thing to say.

She gasped and pushed at him. He backed up, hands lifted, and she shook her head sharply, "No. No. I can't - I don't...I just-"

Like he was soothing a bull about to charge, he eased, "It's ok, honey, we don't have to. It's ok."

Jill skimmed along the shower wall with her back to it. She gave him a wide berth, chest heaving like she'd run a mile, "I don't want you to fuck me."

But he hadn't said fuck. He'd said be inside her. He was already inside her and she didn't want him there. He'd get in there and make a home and fuck her all up. He'd get inside her and leave her open for him.

She'd stop him and he'd finish on her hair or her face or on her ass. He'd try to fuck her in the ass because she was dry. It's what they did.

They?

She was losing her mind. He wasn't "they". He was just Leon. She didn't want him to be Leon. She didn't want him to anything at all.

Leon nodded, trying desperately to soothe her here, "Ok. Alright. We don't have to fuck. I'm not going to make you, Jill. Don't you know that?"

She trembled and hit the edge of the shower, backing away into the bathroom. "...sorry. I am. I need you to stay there. Please? Just stay there."

He stopped tracking her. He put his hands open palmed and up like she had a gun on him. "Sure. Absolutely. It's ok. Don't run and I won't move."

Jesus. It was all over her. She wanted to run. She backed out of the bathroom and shook her head, "...you'll hurt me if you touch me."

He looked so hurt. Him. Not her. He lifted his hands higher, "...look at me. It's me. Wherever you think you are -you're not there. Its me. Jill. _Leon_."

Her eyes teared up, "...let me go. Please."

She slammed the door. He heard her shove something in the loops of it to block it. Leon cursed and grabbed the handles, jerking, "You can't get away, Jill! Goddammit! Listen, honey, it's not real. I'm real. open the door, sweetheart. Jill? Don't run!"

He heard the door slam as she did just that gasping.

She was having some kind of breakdown or something. He was terrified she'd attack someone with a fucking flashback or something. He needed to get to her before she did something and ended up hurt or in custody. He should _never _have let her touch him.

With a shout of panic, he kicked the doors to the bathroom, and called himself a fool.


	13. No Hope13

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Lima Syndrome**

* * *

**Fall**

**-November 11th, 2010-**

* * *

George nibbled a biscuit while he spoke.

It'd been an interesting few weeks.

He'd come to the compound to find things in a bit of a state. Jill had suffered a psychotic break of some kind and was being held in isolation again. Apparently, when Leon had come upon her after freeing himself she'd been on the floor with a taser in her ribs to restrain her.

Apparently, the guard who'd wielded the taser had his arm broken in three places. By the way people were whispering, Kennedy hadn't been at all understanding about their attempts to suppress her. It was unexpected for a man often classified as cold.

The second guard who'd hit her to knock her down was missing two teeth. It was a curious thing to know that somehow Jill and Leon had bonded over her recovery. It wasn't uncommon at all - Stockholm Syndrome was very much a state. The curious thing wasn't Jill attaching, it was Leon. Lima Syndrome was so much more rare. It wasn't as often that a captor developed feelings so strongly for their captive.

Based on the havoc he'd wreaked discovering her bleeding and down, it was worse than that.

George tapped a finger on her file and engaged Leon again in conversation, "I need to know the scope of your feelings, Mr. Kennedy, in which to determine the best way to proceed."

He'd been resisting sharing the specifics of his relationship with Jill, but it turned out he didn't need to say a word. The footage from his place spoke for itself. There was quiet in the office as they observed the daily functions and the truth.

Derek Simmons piped up first, "...and I thought you were better than this. Fucking your charge, Director? I'll have your clearance for this and put you back on a desk for the rest of your career."

Leon laughed, eyes flashing, "You don't have the authority, Simmons. You never did. This is my command and Adam's organization. He wants to fire me, he can do it himself. The day I step down to you is the day you might as well write my name on the wall of the dead."

"That can be arranged."

Quietly, the other doctor in the room, Hannah Stewart - Sherry's personal doctor- wondered, "Can I ask, Director, about the spanking?"

Jesus. Here he was having to explain his actions in his own fucking house to these people. Jill was being kept in a padded cell like a monster or something. Why were they wasting time here!?

So he barked, "Jill wouldn't respond to my authority, alright? But I had to find a way to attempt to curb her out bursts...it seemed to help."

Hannah actually nodded, looking pensive, "I can see why. She's in a full blown psychosis, George?"

Hamilton bobbed his head, "She's recovering now, but she was in a rampant state when I arrived."

Hannah, again quietly, remarked, "Director, if I may?"

He nodded, curious. She hit the button the remote to fast forward to Jill over Leon's lap. "If you look here, it's obvious that she derives some kind of pleasure out of provoking you. Did it seem that way to you?"

Leon nodded, mouth dry, "Yes."

Hannah patted his shoulder, "I'm sorry this is uncomfortable for you, Director, we'll be done shortly. The subject -"

Leon imparted, "Jill. Her name is Jill."

Simmons snorted and got a dirty look for it. George encouraged, "Go ahead, Hannah."

Hannah smiled, gently, "Jill responds to the spanking with pleasure. It's a form of submitting for her that she can summarily control. She allows it. She instigates, she initiates, she controls. Director...allowing Jill to push you to such a feat is remarkable. She's found a way to bridge her pain and her torture with pleasure and you. I think it would be detrimental at this juncture to derail that kind of response."

He had to blink twice to be sure he understood. "...you want me to keep spanking Jill Valentine?"

Saying it out loud sounded stupid. Better than that? George and Hannah were nodding. George piped in, "Something triggered the breakdown, Leon, but that's not a bad thing. She has to break a little to heal. Can I ask what predicated her breakdown?"

Leon licked his lips and Hannah smiled sweetly, "...sex?"

Simmons snorted again, "What a disgrace."

Leon ignored him, "She initiated it."

George looked impressed. He scribbled on the file in his hands. Hannah nodded rapidly, "You've gotten close enough to her that she felt comfortable engaging you in a spontaneous sexual act?"

Leon feeling like a kid confessing to his parents still admitted, "It's not the first time."

George paused in writing. His brows winged up, "When was the first time?"

Leon gestured at the screen. Ada and Jill had begun fighting. Jesus, seeing it in third person was alarming. They were beating the piss outta each other. Hannah glanced at the time stamp. George tucked his pen between his teeth, nodded, and tapped on his keyboard.

After a handful of minutes, Leon queried, "Anybody gonna fill me in here?"

George told him, "That's remarkable progress for a rape victim, Leon. It's my understanding that this other woman here...she's a lover?"

Leon winced, "...that's a heavy word, but yes, I've had...uh-yes. We've had relations."

Hannah fast forwarded to the act of Jill atop him. Somehow? That part was fucking incredible to watch. His mouth went dry. His hands were clammy. And on the screen when his eyes were closed, he could see her.

He could see Jill's face while she looked at him.

He could see her face while she took him inside of her.

She looked at him like he was music and she'd been deaf her whole life. His face beneath her? It said he was in love with her.

Fuck.

He was in love with her.

Annoyed by it, he shook his head. What kind of an idiot was he? He was in love with a fucking mess. He'd gone from being in love with a girl he couldn't have, to pining for a woman who'd never want him, to being obsessed with a woman who might never be able to love him back.

He was a fucking joke.

Into the quiet, Simmons spoke, "You were widely touted as a man of great professional integrity, Kennedy, all I'm seeing here is a fool with a traitor on his lap. Tell me, do you find that treason tastes better between her thighs?"

Apparently, George Hamilton could move like the wind when he wanted. It was only because of him that Simmons didn't swallow most of his teeth and his tongue. He bodily shoved his way into Leon to prevent it.

Seething, Leon pointed over his shoulder, "I tolerate you because you have the best interest of this country at heart, you pathetic little turd, but one of these days you're gonna push me until I cut across all the bureaucratic red tape you hide behind and kick your ass."

Simmons flashed his teeth, "Try it. I'll have you put down like the dog you are. You think all those muscles scare me? You're just a boy playing house with a monster. I'm gonna enjoy watching her destroy you. After that? I'll have your traitorous whore executed and burned at the stake."

Leon's smile was wolfish, "I'm gonna be the man who puts you in the ground, Simmons, count on it."

George pushed Leon back again, cautioning, "Your loyalty is impressive, Director, but I need you to focus on what matters here."

The rage that rolled between them was so hot it scalded where it touched. Hannah had sequestered herself to a corner like a fly on the wall. Simmons, although a bastard, wasn't a fool - he kept that desk between himself and the man being held back by years of self control and the good doctor. Part of him wanted Kennedy to come after him, it would be all he needed to have the man fired and removed from power.

The flaw in all his plans was that altruistic asshole. He wasn't a man who could be bought or bargained with or blackmailed. He had no weaknesses to exploit. Simmons turned his eyes to the screen and Jill Valentine gasping on the lap of her captor.

Simmons smile turned up to a terribly ugly sneer. Apparently, he had a weakness after all. It was time to take away Kennedy's toy and watch him wreck his world trying to get her back.

George finally managed to get Leon out of the office. They walked side by side down the narrow hallway and George spoke first, "It's important, for her recovery, to remove Jill from this place as soon as possible. She's nothing but a lab rat here, Leon, and she needs familiar surroundings."

Leon paused, absorbing that, "What about Sherry? I want them to...bond? Something."

George nodded, "I'll get Hannah to clear Sherry for some time away. It won't be easy, but Simmons will allow it based on Sherry's continued placid behavior. Take them away, both of them, for a little trip."

Leon nodded, scanning his face, "Where?"

"Somewhere Jill feels safe. Somewhere she can heal and remember who she was. Some place she isn't forced to be a traitor, or a weapon, or an object of study...let her be a woman, and a friend, and a person."

Leon took a heavy breath. Damnit. There was only one person in the world who would know where that would be.

It was time to put a call in to the Human Tank and ask for help.

* * *

Jill was dodging left and right around the bed as the orderly begged, "Please...Ms. Valentine...just let me give you the shot."

"No!" She snarled it and pushed the bed at him as he advanced on her, "I'll break your fucking wrist! You're not shooting me up with _any _drugs! Ever! Do you hear me!?"

Her voice broke. There was nothing in the world worse than the idea of someone holding her down to inject her. It made her blood run cold and her lungs fill with panic.

From the doorway, Leon thought, didn't they get that? They were asking a woman who'd been injected constantly for years to let them inject her again. They were either stupid or insane. He wasn't sure which.

The orderly advanced again and Jill roared like a tiger. Finally caged enough, she was done cowering. She raced at him madly and Leon hit the release on her cell door and surged in.

The second he did, the orderly shouted, "Director, sir! She's hostile!"

Leon bypassed the scared man in the white scrubs and just kept going. Jill veered off the attack path and came right at him. That was ok, it was just fine, he could handle her. God knew if Opie over there with the good intentions even knew how to throw a punch.

She came right at him like she'd feed him his balls and Leon braced and suggested, "You might wanna hit the bricks, kid. It could get ugly."

"You need some back up?"

Leon just laughed, "No. Hah. _No. _Just go." From a hundred twenty five pound woman in a hospital gown? No. Had body armor that weighed more than her.

She snarled like a wolf and he caught her as she leaped at him, tossed her casually back on the bed, and let it roll toward the wall while she struggled back to her feet. In a way, the fighting was good. It might help him get some of the aggression out that came with not kicking the shit outta Derek Simmons and his sniveling weasel face.

Leon jerked the zipper on his jacket and slid it off, tossing it away. He rolled his neck and popped it, tracking her. They circled each other and he said, almost conversationally, "So the whole world saw you climb on my lap today. I guess that cats outta the bag, huh?"

Jill twitched. She trembled. He watched her absorb that as she ran at him again with a whoop like a warrior. She feinted, slid across the floor like she'd take his feet, and when he reached down for her, her legs came up, her feet went right into his belly, and she rolled up into a toss.

Clever.

Quick.

Leon went up and out, rolled through the landing, and spun back to catch her as she grabbed for his gun in his holster. He laughed, he twisted her wrist and hyper extended her elbow, shoved a hand into her shoulder and spoke against her ear, "Nope. Not today, sweetheart. Who am I?"

Jill gasped, she grunted like a pig, and she drove her foot at his knee. He shoved her away, let her scramble, and turned bouncing from one foot to the other like a boxer. She was almost feral. What was it about her condition that did that?

He tried again, "Who am I?"

She shook her head.

So he shrugged and braced as she rushed him. This time she got a solid kick in to his hip, he got a partial block, and she spun around to hook her leg behind his head. Sadly, for her, he caught that leg and lifted easily throwing her onto the bed again. It hit the wall with a clunk and she whimpered in repressed rage.

Leon sighed, "You are not big enough, fast enough, or good enough, Jill. Goddamnit. If you can't over power me, how do you stop me?"

It was like a light switch in her head. She rolled off the bed and kicked the damn thing right at him. As he moved to stop it from smacking into him, she leaped on the bed, slid across it, and kicked him in the chest. Before he could stop her, she punched him right in the face for the time it took him to brace against the kick.

The bed smacked into his hips to pin him into the wall, Jill grabbed for his gun again, and he gripped her wrists. He spun her around and pinned her to his front. She wiggled, gasping, and he said it again, calmly, "Who am I?"

Jill shuddered. He held her so hard that it was impossible for her to move again. She finally relented, going still on the bed where her legs were twisted up beneath her. She was breathing hard and shaky.

She turned her nose and it touched behind his ear. Like he'd hit a switch on her, her whole body relaxed. She went so limp in his arms he had to be sure she was still awake. He turned his head enough to look at her.

And Jill whispered, "...am I dead?"

With a surge of relief, Leon laid his cheek on her head, "Nope. Still here. I guess that girly shit you like works huh? Like how I smell?"

She laughed and it turned into a soft sobbing breath. Her hands clutched up at his forearm. She tucked her face closer to his neck and wondered, "Did I hurt you? Are you ok?"

Touched, he released the hold he had on her. She turned on the bed and scrambled. Her arms looped around his neck. The desperate hugging nearly left him breathless. He wrapped one arm around her back and shoulders and the other over her hips. She opened her legs and looped her feet at his tailbone and just...clung.

He couldn't think of a single time she'd clung like a monkey to him.

Jill's fingers tunneled into his hair as she muttered into his neck, "I'm so sor-"

He slid his hand over her mouth to stop it. He shook his head: no. Jill nodded, trembling. As his hand slid away, she urged, "...take me home. Ok? Please."

Home.

Jesus Christ. That's where they were. Wherever he was, it was home for her. The terrible, wonderful, desperate truth of that nearly made him dizzy. He wondered if he was the only person in the world who she trusted enough to even let touch her.

He picked her up around the front of him, his hand scooped up his jacket and laid it over her like a shield as he carried her.

The door whooshed up and he walked. No one stopped him.

He didn't stop until he was setting her in the car. Sherry was already there, loading a bag into the trunk. Her brows winged up. Leon shook his head to stop the questions. He tucked Jill into the front.

She buckled in, turned toward the drivers seat, and cuddled his jacket around her as she curled her legs up against her belly until she was huddled there.

Sherry climbed into the back. He turned the car out of the compound and onto the empty back roads. Jill reached out from under his jacket and laid her hand on the top of his thigh. She didn't grope. She just...added that connection.

After about an hour, it was obvious that Jill was sleeping.

In the back, Sherry said softly, "...how bad was it?"

It was easy enough to see trauma all over the other blonde woman. Jaw flexing, Leon answered, "Bad. But better now. She'll be better now."

Sherry nodded, watching his face in the rearview mirror, "What if you can't save her?"

He said nothing.

She smiled gently and touched his shoulder, "Yeah. We both know that's never once crossed your mind. Big hero - you just never give up."

He caught her gaze in the mirror. He winked. "Good thing huh?"

Sherry grinned and patted his arm. "Sure. You got me outta that prison too. Who'd you have to fuck to do it? Derek never lets me leave."

Derek. Ugh. She called that natty beard wearing bastard by his first name. Leon gritted his teeth but smiled, keeping the mood light, "Turns out? Nobody. Just a bunch of blowjobs."

She sparkled with laughter. Fuck, every time he looked at her it was hard to remember she wasn't twelve years old anymore. A woman, they said, eventually she'd want to have a family or get on with her life.

How did he help her?

How did he help the one beside him?

What fucking good was he if he couldn't save either of them?

As if she'd read his mind, Sherry admonished, "Don't do that."

"...what?"

"Punish yourself for it."

"...for what?"

"Any of it." She tilted her head, "You're only responsible for what you can control, Leon. Me? What happened? It's not your fault."

He said nothing.

She tried again, "Jill? That's not either. Not then, not now. You are the only person in the world that stayed by my side when it happened. Claire, she had family that she had to find. I knew it, you knew it - she left me with someone she trusted to care for me."

He shook his head, "I didn't care for you."

"What?"

"I failed you. I let them take you. I'm the reason they know about you and use you and keep you like a fucking lab rat. It's my fault, Sherry. All of it."

What was it like to be Leon Kennedy? Sherry wondered. To walk around with the world on your shoulders like Atlas? Every little thing that was beyond his control weighed him down like another stone in his pocket. Which would be the last and leave him trapped at the bottom of his own guilt to drown?

She spoke gently, but forcefully, "I saw what they did to you."

Surprised, he caught her gaze again in the mirror, "What?"

"I saw. That day...I saw them when they dragged you away. They thought I wasn't able to, but I saw. A boy. A brave boy who'd been a good cop in a bad city. They beat you so badly that I didn't think you'd live Leon. Why didn't they just kill you? They already had me, why didn't they just kill you that day?"

After a long moment, she was fairly sure he wasn't going to speak, but he did, "I'm immune."

Sherry took a second to swallow that, "...you're what?"

"I'm immune. To the T-Virus. I think they knew, they always knew, exposed and wounded like I was..I should have turned and didn't. In that moment, I might have been the only person on Earth with a natural immunity that they knew about."

Sherry shook her head, absorbing that, "...ok. Even if that was true...why the hell would they beat you? Why not just keep you like a lab rat like me?"

He blew out a hard breath, "Somebody saw my test scores. Somebody knew what I was capable of. They used you to threaten me. They beat me up to prove they could kill me. They made sure I understood that I could say no, I had the right, but if I did - they'd turn you in a guinea pig and make you some kind of weapon. Or?"

Sherry made a small sound, but it was Jill that spoke and surprised him because he hadn't known she was awake, "Or you could be their weapon. You could take her place. A naturally immune cop with a good amount of potential...you were primed, you were ready, you were already in the making for what they wanted. It would take years to grow Sherry into what they wanted. Why? When they had you right there, ready to go."

He said nothing. He didn't have to. His nothing said _everything._

In the back, Sherry admonished, "..._Leon..._why!?"

Again, silence. So Jill said, "...he's a hero. That's what they do. Isn't that right, hero?"

Gruffly, Leon finally spoke, "I'm not a fucking hero. I did what anyone would do. You don't use kids like a weapon. There's gotta be a line. Even in this war...there's gotta be a line."

Voice breaking, Sherry lamented, "...I cost you your _life."_

Tone hard, he slapped the steering wheel, "No. You just gave me a reason to risk mine. You just said it, Sherry, that was my choice. Mine. It wasn't yours - and neither is this. I don't regret a damn thing I did that day. You don't either."

Sherry settled back in the seats, looking stricken.

The silence spread around the car as he drove. Into it, Jill slid her hand off his thigh. She settled it over his on the gear shift. She watched the muscle in his jaw flex.

He was so angry.

Why?

But she knew that too.

He didn't want anyone to think of him as a hero. Softly, Jill wondered, "Why do you fight it so hard?"

He glanced at her and back at the road, "Fight what?"

"The title. You save people, it's what you do. At great risk to yourself...that makes you a hero."

He shook his head, "I'm not, goddammit. I'm not. I'm just a guy who tries to do the right thing."

Jill smiled wryly, "And drink himself to death when he can't."

Leon scoffed, shaking his head on a dry laugh, "Yeah...some hero, huh?"

Her fingers skimmed over the inside of his wrist to feel his pulse. She scanned his profile in the dying sun as he drove. After a moment, she reiterated, without the same rancor as he'd used, "...yeah, some hero."

He didn't look at her. His hand rolled over and hers speared her fingers between. His jaw relaxed and his hand squeezed hers, softly. Jill whispered, "I see right through you...big hero."

He didn't think about it. He might have, and avoided it, but it wasn't that simple. He lifted their joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of hers. The good news was that Jill allowed it. She even brought his hand back and kept it in her lap with hers.

In the backseat, Sherry tilted her head. How did she give him his life back? She'd started to worry it was too late for that.

But that single gesture told her everything she needed. This. This was how she paid him back. She helped him find happiness with that woman in the seat beside him. She did that for him, like he'd done for her and protected her all those years ago.

She protected him, now, from a lifetime of long lonely nights filled with too much booze and too little hope.

This was how you helped a hero.

So, she asked, casually, "So, where we headed?"

Jill shifted under the jacket. She watched the leaves and the line of the water beside them. She felt her heart shiver as she answered, "...home."

Sherry perked up, "Yeah? You have family around here?"

Jill shook her head, "Not exactly. I own the land on the far side of the valley. It's...the only selfish thing I ever bought for myself."

Interested, Sherry inquired, "Oh? What's there?"

He wouldn't look at her. He hadn't turned his head once. Jill knew if he did, they were both afraid they'd turn to stone. So she answered, hoarsely, "My vineyard."

Her _heart. _It was there. Typed up in vines and grapes and good rich Earth. It was the only thing in the world she owned that mattered. There was no one he could have known about it. She owned it under an alias just in case.

He'd called Chris. He'd called Chris to ask about what she needed to heal.

Sherry looked happy now, "I have _never _been to a vineyard! Is it producing?"

Jill nodded. Her other hand slid up his arm to the elbow. She gripped him, holding on, "Yes. It's never been very successful, but it's trying. I kept thinking I'd have the time when I retired to just...head out there and make it prosper."

"What's it called?"

But the answer was in front of them as Leon turned down the rutted dirt road.

Wolf Hollow. A good name for a beautiful dream.

He had a sentimental attachment to wolves himself, honestly, since one had saved his life in Spain.

He eased up the swirling drive to the big house there. It was a sweet red barn style that made you think of lazy summer days on a farm from a movie. The rows and rows and rows of wild grapes headed toward hibernation for winter were picturesque.

Sherry laughed, delighted, and leaped out of the car, "Dude...this is soooo much better than another trip to the city!"

Leon started to alight from the vehicle behind her and Jill gripped his arm to stop him. She hooked her fingers into the neck of his shirt as he told her, "...we don't have to stay, Jill. If it's too hard or too much, we can g-"

She pressed her mouth against his and silenced him. Soft. Just a nearly chaste touch of lips.

When she let him go, she shook her head, "You think I can run from you on my own land?...I hate you." And she opened the door to leave him in the cab of the car.

After a second, his mouth turned up in a smile. Hate sure had a funny way of making her happy sometimes.

Into the cool fall air, she asked, "...what about the collar? Aren't we too far from the hub?"

He shrugged and remarked, "...not anymore. Now the collar only goes off...when you get too far from _me._"

Her brows arched and he grinned, "That's right, princess, now _I'm _the hub. You're stuck with me, Valentine - for better or worse."

She studied him and said, "If Wesker had known, about your immunity, he'd have taken you."

They held eyes as he digested that. She blinked and shook her head. As she inhaled the air and felt her body relax, she confessed, "...I'm really glad he never knew."

She turned toward the house and left him quietly watching her. That was almost like I love you in her way. She was glad he'd been safe from Wesker all those years. She was glad.

He'd have traded almost anything to keep her that way.


	14. No Hope14

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Family**

* * *

**Winter**

**-February 14th, 2011-**

* * *

The sink full of dishes warmed her cold hands. Jill washed and looked out at the snow across the vineyard. Things were moving steadily now, although a fungus had infected a good portion of her grapes and she was still trying to recover from the loss.

Being here, training Sherry, teaching again and taking care of her life - it was the most joy she'd had in so long that she couldn't even remember. Sherry was sweet and guileless and strong. She fought like she laughed, full and beautifully.

She was like the sister Jill had always wanted. They took walks and washed the vineyard dogs and played freeze tag at night when the lights were gone and the world was tickled by starlight. Sherry didn't judge, didn't condemn, and didn't seem to care what the rest of the world thought about Jill.

Somehow she'd held on to some kind of sweetness in the face of everything they'd done to her.

She was a gift.

Jill set a plate in the dish strainer beside the small sink. This wasn't Leon's place. It was just a house - with sagging gutters and wallpaper in pale white and pink from a bygone age- and floors that needed buffing. She'd thought he'd seem out of place without the money and the shine of expensive things.

He didn't.

He fit as easily among the broken well pump and the wide hundred-year-old farmhouse as he had in a penthouse high above Manhattan. He was a chameleon, with the ability to blend anywhere. He lit up around Sherry. He was soft and loving and relaxed in such a way that, sometimes, they all forgot for a flash that they weren't just three people renovating and old house and living their lives.

Sherry was on the couch in the faded living room reading a book. Leon emerged from the cold and shook the snow off his boots as he commented, "...I think the whole west field is a complete loss, Jill. It might be time to consider going back to seed."

Jill shook her head, sighing, "...that moneys not there, not yet. Soon though, I hope."

After a handful of seconds, Leon added, "What if I came in on the property as a silent partner?"

Sherry looked over the back of the couch, "Oh my god, I didn't think of that before. Me too. I want to invest too."

Jill shook her head, not turning away from the sink, "No. I don't want anyone to feel obligated to do that. I can do it on my own."

Sherry shrugged and flopped back on the couch. Leon continued into the kitchen. Her back was to him was like a shield, he knew that. There'd be nothing in the time they'd been there. With Sherry as a conduit, Jill was able to soften and embrace a kind of peace she'd needed.

He carefully avoided her and the urge to touch her.

They slept in three separate bedrooms.

Sometimes, he'd wake in the night to find her at the foot of his bed on the floor like a dog.

He'd pick her up and take her back to her room without waking her.

She didn't run. She didn't want to. When she panicked at night, he used the old guitar Sherry had found in the barn down the property to play for her. She whimpered and rocked and whispered, "...I'm sorry."

He was sick of her sorry.

So he tried again now, in the kitchen, "Let me invest, Jill. I can afford it."

She shook her head, no. "I know you can. I don't want a hand out."

Leon struck up a cigarette and shook his head, "It's not a handout. It's an investment. I believe in this place. I've walked it for months now. There's potential here, Jill, and a real possibility for something. Let me help."

Jill shook her head once more, "I'll do it on my own, but thanks."

Stubborn, this woman. The most stubborn woman alive sometimes. When she put another plate in the drainer, he caught her at the elbow and guided her toward the side door of the house with his head.

Jill followed, brows arched, as they stepped outside into the cold. He flicked the ash off his cigarette and remarked, "...don't turn down a good thing because you don't like me. That's stupid. I've got the money, you don't - and I believe you can do something with this place, Jill. Let's find you a fucking manager to run the place in your absence, and get it done."

She studied his face in the cool dark. His breath fogged out with the cigarette smoke into the chilly air. His hair had grown back in in a way that made her mourn his face beneath it, but she understood the appeal.

Women, as a general rule, liked the idea of a rebel. Leon looked like the love child of James Dean and Keith Urban. It was like catnip for skanks. Something he said resonated with her as she returned, "I dont need a pity investment, Kennedy. I can do this on my own."

He laughed, harshly, "I know that. You think I don't know that? This isn't about pity, it's business. Investing here is good business. I believe in it..and I believe in you. Let me give you the money to get back on your feet and when you do? You can make a return on that investment twofold."

She studied him seriously for a long moment before she finally agreed, "Fine, but it's a loan. At six percent over ten years."

He lifted his hand and waved it, acquiescing, "Fine. Deal. I capitulate to your demands. Let's get this done. I'll call up my lawyer in the morning and get the contracts drawn up. I can make calls about a manager for the property too if you'd like."

Jill nodded, watching the shift of smoke on his face as he flicked it away. He turned toward the door to head back in and she said gently, "...I don't dislike you."

He laughed, rolling his eyes, "Sure. You just hate me."

The door bumped as he returned inside. She rolled her lips under and considered things. No strings here, he just wanted to invest in a good opportunity. That's all this was. Business. It wasn't personal.

She was partially in the door when she heard him speaking on his phone. Slowing down, she began to eavesdrop as he spoke roughly to the caller, "It's not the right time. Because it isn't. I don't care about getting a confession, I'm not doing it. She's not ready."

Jill froze, eyes wide. It was something about her, clearly. They'd found someone connected to her and Wesker.

Without preamble, Jill stepped into the kitchen, "Not ready for what? Who is it?"

Leon pursed his lips, "Doesn't matter. It's not the right time."'

Jill tossed the rag in her hands on the counter. "I think I know what I can handle."

"Do you? Three months ago you tried to kill me. You snapped and nearly got put down like a rabid dog, Jill. You think you have any right to make demands here? I'm your guardian, it's my job to determine what I think you can handle."

They glared at each other until Jill finally hissed, "Who is it?"

He rolled his eyes and turned away from her. To his surprise, she grabbed his arm and slung him back around. She never touched him. It was nearly as shocking as it was unexpected. "I have the right to know. Tell me who it was."

Leon arched a brow, "It doesn't change anything, Jill. It's just a name."

"Who?"

"Fiala Belkin. She's a suspected arms dealer that operates out of the Eastern Slav Republic. We've been tracking her for months since the civil unrest became hostile there. We think she was Irving's supplier in Greece before he moved operations to Africa with Gionne. If we're on the right track, there's a chance she was also the contact for Gionne to get what she needed to reverse engineer the P-30 compound. If we can get her to corroborate, and we can get her to divulge the basis of the compound, we can attempt to recreate it. It gets us one step closer to verifying your captivity."

When he started to turn away again, Jill grabbed handfuls of his coat to halt him. "Wait...wait...you're saying this woman might be able to help prove my innocence?"

He shook his head, "I can send a time to extract her for interrogation. There's no reason to risk anything by going in undercover and seeing if she'll talk to you. That's stupid and dangerous. If you have an episode, I can't control the situation that way. In a hostile situation, I can't guarantee your safety."

Jill, trying not to sound desperate, told him, "I'm fine. I'm _fine. _Please. This could be it, Kennedy, my chance. My real chance to find the truth. My only chance to prove myself. Take me with you, I'll behave. I swear."

He denied that, "It's too dangerous, Jill. We can collect her and interrogate her, it's a non-issue."

Jill let him go in defeat and he turned toward the sink, "It's for the best, honestly. And she's not far from here. She's having a party in Montauk down by the water, so I can have her collected in the morning and brought in for questioning. There's no reason to even get upset over it. It's for your own good, Jill."

Her own good. She was sick and tired of her own good.

She turned toward the hallway and simply walked away. On the couch, Sherry sighed, "You could have given her a chance, Leon. That's all she wants."

"I'm not trying to be her friend here, Sherry, I'm just trying to protect her. If I took her there and she had a break down? Belkin could run and then we'd have nothing. It could set back Jill's recovery completely. I'm doing the right thing here. It doesn't have to make me popular."

Jill crossed back into the kitchen and he was at the sink doing the dishes as he added, "You'll see, Jill, it's safer for you to stay here. Let me handle Belkin."

"Like you handle me?"

He started to turn and Jill? She clocked him in the back of the head with his own gun. One, two, and down. Sherry gasped in horror and Leon went face down in the sink before he spilled to the floor.

"Jill!"

"Help me, Sherry, hurry."

"What did you do!?"

"He's the hub. I can't travel without him. I need to find this woman. I need to get her to talk. I need him with me so I don't end up sedated on my ass. Help me, trust me, please."

Sherry hesitated and Jill told her, "I'll make it up to him, I swear, but I have to do this. Help me."

Finally, Sherry nodded, rising off the couch, "How?"

"Go grab him a fancy ass suit for the party. Go get dressed in something yourself. You're strong, so I need you to carry him to the car."

Sherry looked almost excited now. "We going all James Bond?"

"Absolutely. Let's kidnap this hero and go kick some bad guy ass."

Sherry was laughing as she ran to help Jill defy Leon's orders. He was being overprotective. He was being rational and calm and pragmatic. She was done with that. She was a rat's ass hair away from the truth and her own freedom.

She'd cold cock him again if it meant she was going to be on her own without chains to bind her.

In less than 24 hours, she'd be free.

* * *

Leon couldn't remember drinking himself into oblivion, but apparently he had since he was waking up with a wicked hangover.

The second he groaned and started to open his eyes, a hand covered his mouth...and just like that he remembered.

The instant rage on his face was searing as Jill cautioned, quietly, "I'm sorry. I am. I had to. You'd have never let me go otherwise, and I had to come here. I had to. This is my chance, Kennedy, my only one. I need to take it. I need you to help me. I need you to put on that suit in the back, smile that way that makes girls cream their panties, and charm your way into that party with me so I can find the truth...please?"

She watched the anger dance over his face and she tried again, "If I remove my hand, are you going to yell at me?"

His mouth moved behind her hand into a wolfish smile. That was a yes if she'd ever seen one. So she begged, "Please..._please..._please do this for me. Please. I'm gonna move my hand, ok?"

She slid her hand away and he growled, "You _owe _me, Valentine. Big time. You didn't think about simply asking me to come with you? You had to fucking coldcock me?"

He started to recede into the seat of the car and she slid her hand around the back of his neck. Her hand delicately touched the sore spot at the base of his skull. She apologized and surprised him again, "I know. I wasn't thinking. It was the fastest way to get you here. I'm a bitch. I am. You can yell at me all you want later, I swear, but tell me you'll do this for me."

She saw the angry desire to refuse her all over him. So Jill leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his angry mouth. It worked like a charm. He softened and she begged, "Please...help me. I need you to go in there and charm the panties off that woman and _help me. _Or I'm gonna have to go kick her ass, and we both know that won't work as well."

He shook his head, blue gaze snapping, "You're giving me too much credit. I'm not that fucking charming."

And she nearly made him laugh as she said, "I know that. I know you're hopeless...but other girls seem to giggle and fall over when you speak. So put that to use for me. Try to turn up the charm past wet fart to full on shit, ok? I need you."

Jesus. That struck home. He shook his head, "...I really wish I knew if you were playing me here, Valentine."

She leaned forward again and said against his mouth, "...I kinda am. I am, but later? Later you can make me regret it."

She swung out of the car. He blinked. He blinked again. He was fairly sure he wasn't missing the cues here. She wanted him to help her and then punish her. That's what she was saying.

Mouth dry, he grabbed angrily for the suit she had laid in the back seat of the car.

As he emerged to change, he noticed she'd parked in a field far away from the shoreline mansion in full swing of a party.

"Cover me while I get dressed, ok?"

Sherry perked up where he was shooting her killer looks. "Can't you just be proud for the ability to think on my feet?"

"...no." He grunted it, fuming, "We run this my way. You do what you're told, both of you, or I'll pull the plug on the whole thing. Are we clear?"

Jill gushed, "...thank you. Kennedy, thank you. I mean it."

"It's Leon, you viperous woman, _Leon."_

And Jill muttered, "Actually it's Leonard. Technically."

Sherry squeaked, "...really!? What an awful name."

He jerked on the suit jacket and whipped it once to settle it over his shoulder holster. Admittedly, the Italian silk was soft and buttery and the dark pin stripe was flattering. Sherry was in a pretty white dress that was mostly lace and wispy fabric. As they walked toward the house, Jill emerged from the shadow of the car and he nearly tripped over the lump of grass and rocks in front of him.

Red.

The dress was blood red and clung to one shoulder as it draped prettily to cover her chest. There were no scars, no suggestion of pain or trauma, and her hair was gathered into some knot on her head that looks effortless, timeless, and elegant. She was beautiful and it made him seethe a little.

So he barked, "You two will not engage a single person in conversation. You blend in, you stay innocuous, you let me do this and we all go back without a single incident. Are we clear?"

Sherry bobbed her head happily, "Just back up, right?"

Leon rolled his eyes, "Not even that. Just eyes in the crowd. Clear?"

Sherry nodded, "Clear, sir. Clear."

Jill scoffed. He stopped and grabbed her arm above the elbow, halting her. She gave him a narrow look and finally huffed, "Fine! Clear! Jesus. Stop giving me the stink eye."

He licked his teeth and dropped her arm, "You cold-cocked me, Jill. I get to give you whatever look I want."

Five minutes later, she figured out why he was so good at his job. He was effortless. He just talked them into a private party like it was nothing. He was good at reading people and anticipating their response and responding. He threw on some kind of charming Southern accent that made the ladies tither around him.

He was a chameleon, acting however they wanted. He winked, he flirted, he danced his way through the crowd like an accomplished actor. Sherry poked herself in the solar with the younger crowd and Jill flanked him by picking up a flute of champagne and shadowing him from room to room while he sought out Belkin.

The second he found her, he zeroed in without waiting. It didn't take more than a handful of seconds to get her attention. She gravitated toward him in a gown of gold and gray with her cleavage pouring from the generously low bust line. She cooed. She licked her lips and giggled. She tossed her hair.

Jill tilted her head, studying them. There was something about him that made women do that. Admittedly, she got it. He was handsome - in that pretty way of his that edged onto some kind of broody loner thing that girls adored. But Felia Belkin was preening around him as if he were...what?

James Bond?

Jill considered that. Leon leaned his head down. His hair fell over his eyes and obscured the sexy little tilt of his smile. Belkin took his hand and slid it over her waist and led him toward a room off the alcove where they stood.

Yeah. She was going to give him a martini, shaken not stirred.

Jill sighed. How far would he go for that intel? A few kisses? A little groping? A quick fuck in a darkened room?

After a moment, she realized her hand was clenched hard around the flute of champagne. Her teeth were gnashing a little. Apparently? She was jealous. She'd been jealous of Ada Wong. She was jealous of some big tittied terrorist.

She was jealous.

And she was _never _jealous.

She should have come here and handcuffed him in the damn car. It was stupid to use his looks and his charm to get what she wanted. A gun and a couple of kicks in the face would have loosened that wasps tongue.

It would have over and done qui-

He tugged her elbow and spun her around. She ended up against him as he guided her to the dance floor with a hiss, "Dance. Now. Look charmed."

Her hands settled on him as he dipped her and spun her out, and the edge of irritation she had for him increased because he was a good dancer - and she really hated him for it. He led her into a smooth step, steering her toward the door as he murmured into her ear, "Reach into my breast pocket and take the little phone there, quickly. Now."

Jill slid her hand into his suit over his chest. She plucked the phone from the pocket and slipped it down into her hand. He swirled her, twice, and brought her back against him. Against her ear again, he instructed, "Get Sherry. Get to the car and wait. I will be there in two minutes."

He spun her away and simply blended into the crowd.

Jill did exactly as he asked. The second they were back in the car, she let out the breath she'd been holding and opened the phone in her hand. There was no cracking it. It was passcoded.

What was on it?

The driver's door opened and Leon climbed in. Without a word, he hit the gas and spun the car into a semicircle. Sherry squeaked and Jill grabbed the handle above her as he hit the road in a squeal of tires.

Nobody said a word until they were roaring back toward the vineyard. Finally, it was Jill who spoke, "What's on it?"

He shook his head. Sherry, in the back winced and shook her head. It was a warning not to speak, clearly, but Jill ignored it. "Did you get anything on her? Anything at all?"

His lips pursed. He licked his teeth. He said nothing.

She pressed again, "Was it a waste of time, or what?"

The car threw mud and grass as he jerked it into the driveway to the house. Sherry winced again as he instructed, "Go. Now. Go to your room." She didn't think in the whole time she'd known him, she'd ever heard him with that tone. That was the tone of a man who'd had his commanded usurped by a subordinate or something. He was practically vibrating with rage.

Sherry leaped from the car and ran for it. Jill, annoyed, scoffed, "You can't talk to her like a dog. What's wrong with you?"

He climbed out of the car. Holding the phone, Jill echoed the move. She tried once more, "What did she tell you? Did she prove anything at all?"

The second he came around that car, her radars started to wail in response. Alarm bells echoed in her head. She backed up a step, hated herself, and took it back. "...I had to."

He said nothing.

"I _had _to, Kennedy. You'd have never gone with me otherwise."

He shook his head, scoffed and laughed angrily. She gave it one more shot, "...maybe I was a little rash."

He grabbed her wrist and tugged. She resisted, urging, "Come on, be fair, it was the right move at the time, ya know? I had to get you there. You were being stupid and s-"

"Stupid!?" The first time he spoke and, man-oh-man, it echoed. He shouted it. She'd never in her life heard a man shout like that. It made her heart jerk. She jumped in response, "Stupid!? You mean like cold-cocking the only goddamn person on Earth responsible for your safety? Do you understand what the hell could have happened!? What if you were recognized, Jill!? What if I was!? You were risking everyone for an irrational need to get the answers you wanted RIGHT THEN. We have teams and protocols and responses in place to handle the potential for assets and intel. We don't just make up a fucking plan on the fly like that! You could have gotten us all killed!"

Jesus.

Her heart was hammering. He'd never shouted at her like this. He was so angry. It shivered in the air in a way that left her a little breathless. It was curious that her eyes flicked to his mouth. Curious. She whispered, "...I did what I had to do."

The wrong answer.

He jerked her forward. She struggled, gasping, and twisting, "Put me down!"

He threw her over his shoulder and went right into the house. She grunted, shouting down the walls, "You neanderthal! PUT ME DOWN!"

And his hand just came right down on her ass so hard it made her cry out. Not playful, nope. he was done playing with her. When she went to bite him, he spanked her again and warned, "Next one goes under the dress on the back of your thighs."

Tempted, she still stopped fighting. She'd pushed him someplace he'd never gone with her before. She wasn't sure what he'd do.

His foot kicked open her bedroom door. He threw her to her face on the bed and she started to roll over to fight him. He'd been yelling at her for months that she wasn't strong enough to do that. They sparred, they battled, and he'd been pulling his punches that whole time.

It was clear as day now because he just knocked her hands aside and dragged her up the bed. There was no fighting him. He was all power contained in flesh. It should have scared her. Honestly, he was manhandling her. It should have scared her to death.

It just left her trembling.

He jerked off his tie and grabbed her hands to loop them over the headboard. Jill shouted in rage, "Don't you dare!"

When she kicked, he climbed right onto the bed and straddled her to hold her down. She was face to chest with him as he tied her to the headboard. Jill sneered, "You can't be serious! You can't keep me here like this!"

She couldn't move. He was sitting on her thighs to hold her flailing legs down.

And he informed her, "Tomorrow we go back to the city. Enough playing house here with you. I give you what you ask for, I give you freedom and trust and some level of belief that you won't be a fucking idiot...and this is what you do. You incapacitate me. You leave us all at risk. You put your wants above the safety of that girl in that other room and me and the integrity of your recovery...you do that because you think you know what the hell it means to risk everything."

He rolled off her while she panted on the bed, watching him.

"You don't. Goddammit, Jill, I don't know what I have to do to get through to you here. I won't play this game anymore. You want to treat me like your captor? Then consider it done. Let's go back to basics. You can leave this room to pee and eat. Otherwise?"

He slammed the door.

Jill lay on the bed breathing hard. He was being ridiculous. Sure, she'd been a little rash hitting him and dragging him along. But she knew what she was doing! She wasn't risking anything.

Her brain returned- yeah? You had no idea about the layout of the mansion. You had no idea about her security or the risks or the perimeter. You went into that wildly, blindly, and without proper preparation. You could have gotten everyone killed. He's right.

She was an idiot.

She'd risked them all.

Quietly, throbbing with shame, she called, "...Kennedy?"

Nothing.

She tried again, "Leonard?"

Nope.

Sighing, she called, "Leon?"

The door squeaked when he opened it. She simply said, "...I had to make you believe me. I had to get that intel so you would. I had to."

His jaw flexed. He shook his head, "You could have just said that, Jill. You didn't have to go over me to prove it."

She gave him a sad face and remarked, "...I'm sorr-"

With a bark of angry laughter, he slammed the door again and shouted through it, "_FUCK _your sorry, Jill!"

She winced. She waited. He didn't come back.

She sat on the bed and hated the shame that swirled in her belly.

She called, "What was on the phone? Kennedy?! What was on the phone?"

Chewing her lips, she tried once more, "...did you have to get in her panties to get the intel?"

She didn't like the idea of him touching that woman. She hated the idea of it.

Through the door, his voice shivered, "Yep. And she _loved _it. Go the fuck to sleep, Jill."

Damnit. He was angry at her and she didn't even know if what he'd gotten was worth the risk. She felt the shiver of regret eat at her like a hungry mouth.


	15. No Hope15

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Ambush**

* * *

**Winter**

**-February 14th, 2011-**

* * *

He didn't think he'd ever been this mad. Holding a hand out, he watched it tremble. What did she think she was playing at here? What if someone had recognized her and simply put her down in the middle of the party? At what point was she going to figure out that it was his goddamn job to _keep her alive_!?

His brain let him know the other side -_what about you? _He wasn't the issue. His life was negligible. The second that thought hit him, he knew he was in trouble. At some point, she'd begun to matter to him more than he mattered to himself.

And her answer was to knock him out and run. Her refusal to accept him was infuriating. What did he have to do here?! Get killed saving her life? Would that finally prove it?

He stood in the cold seething.

Sherry found Leon outside the house pacing and muttering. She hesitated but finally filled the air with her apology, "She was so desperate to prove her innocence to you."

He laughed and vibrated with hurt, "She is so fucked up. She knocks me out to prove she's loyal? What kind of shit is that?"

Sherry hesitated and told him, "You should forgive me...and Jill."

His brows winged up, "What? I'm about to send you to your room like a child, Sherry. Go back inside."

"I will...I just-" She paused and finally risked it, "I think you're the only person she's cared about in a long time, Leon. I think she's been alone so long she's forgotten you don't do stupid things in desperation like that. I think she's kinda in love with you."

He scoffed.

Sherry reiterated, "Love...it's not infinite, Leon. It's not with what we do. The life we have? Love doesn't last. I think you should forgive her...and love her back...for as long as you have her."

They held eyes in the moonlight. Gruffly, he finally turned away and said, "...women."

Sherry smiled. He didn't look mad anymore; he looked thoughtful.

Better or worse? She'd done all she could for them both with that one little speech.

Leon watched a storm start to boil on the horizon. Was it worse than the one in him? He wanted to go in that house and turn her over his knees and paddle her ass pink, but they'd both like that and he wanted her to understand that it was never, ever okay to take him down like that.

Ever.

He couldn't protect her if he was down.

He inhaled sharply. Was it progress that she hadn't run from him when she'd taken him down? Sure, but when would she trust him? If she'd just talked rationally about it...maybe...

He sighed. Maybe. It was time to take maybe off the table for them both. It was time to decide if he was willing to let her go.

* * *

When the door creaked open again, it was Sherry, who told her softly, "He's passed out in the living room. We were pretty stupid, weren't we?"

Jill nodded, shaking her head, "Of course he is. That's how he handles his anger. I shouldn't have dragged you into it, Sherry. I'm sorry."

"I'm all grown up, Jill. I can make my own choices. I should tell you, for Leon, there's only so much he can do to take the edge off. The drinking...it's like the driving for him."

Jill arched a brow and Sherry added, "He's a genius, Jill. And I don't say that in a twittering way that some girls might..I mean he is. His IQ is off the charts. He doesn't see the world like we do. He sees it in calculations and equations and results. He has trouble making sense of the world without rules. He's the kinda smart that might have been mistaken for autism back when he was young. He doesn't want to be smarter than us, but he can see everything eight steps ahead of where we are. It's lonely, I think, to be that way. So he drinks...and he drives like a fool because at least there, he can feel the danger. He takes missions like he does to feel the rush of it. He's the smartest, loneliest, most honorable man in the whole world..."

Jill said nothing, feeling like a bitch, and Sherry finished, "I'm telling you this because I think it's a really good thing that you're fighting him like you do."

When the shock abated, Jill laughed, "Why!?"

"For the first time in his life, he has somebody challenging him. Yeah, he was right about tonight. He's usually right...but right don't always mean the way it should be. He needs someone to shake him up...otherwise? He'll spend the rest of his life alone with booze taking the edge off feeling like a freak in a world full of people who will never understand him."

They held gazes and Sherry wondered, "...you care about him?"

Jill sighed and said nothing.

So Sherry returned, "Yeah. It's hard not to. You just gotta figure out how far to push him, Jill. Be careful, you push him too hard and he'll retreat. The funny part? He will never leave you. Even if you push him until he breaks. He's doesn't know any other way but to keep on going."

Sherry smiled and said, "I'd let you go if I could, but he'd murder me with guilt. So..."

"It's ok. I'm used to it by now...could you just...leave the door open?"

"Sure...you know something?"

Jill arched her brows in response.

"He made sure to pass out on that couch down the hallway from here...so you could see him while you're in this room." Sherry smiled, "He knew you'd need to see him so you could rest. Angry as he is...he's still here. He's a real tough guy...isn't he?"

She left the door open. Jill watched Leon sleep with his head tilted on the couch. She sighed and settled back in her restraints. She wanted to just wake him up and tell him - _you're not alone anymore, big hero, and neither am I._

Yeah...a real tough guy. She drifted off to sleep wishing he'd at least turned her over his knees to show her how tough he was.

* * *

The smell of eggs in her face had her eyes flickering open. There wasn't a dog breathing on her, not exactly, there was a man. He a huge nose and was missing teeth. His breath was rank and oily.

He grunted, "...he tied the bitch up. You think it's some of that perverted dominatrix shit?"

"Who knows? Who cares? Kill her and be done with it."

The nasty man over her touched her breast, cupping her, "You sure? What if she's the one we came for? She's pretty. Can I-"

"No! Idiot! No time for that. Kill her so we can find him and do it. Remember, he's supposed to be some kind of bad ass. Take care of her and the other one. Hurry."

The second man and third man left the bedroom. The first one muttered angrily and let go of her breast and Jill whispered, "Untie me...you can do whatever you want to me. He doesn't have to know."

The man grinned and jerked on the tie binding her. Her left hand was freed and she slid her right off to let the tie dangle happily as he grumbled, "Open your legs."

"Sure." She did. He moved between them and she rose up. The tie looped over his throat. He grunted and Jill jerked it tight, cutting off any sound. As he scrambled, she kicked him twice in the balls to spill him face down on the bed. Jill straddled his back and held him there, choking him.

When he stopped struggling. she jerked on his neck and snapped it wetly.

Soundlessly, she rolled off the bed.

There was noises from the front of the house. Her ears perked up to tell her there were at least a half dozen men in her house. She tugged the weapon from the hands of the dead man on her bed and dragged his foot to put him on the side away from the door so they couldn't see his body.

There was a rustle of sound and Sherry shouted from somewhere in the house.

Just like that, the element of surprise was done. She ducked her shoulder out of the door and shot the first one who turned their gun on Leon on the couch. The echo of the shot was so loud it had the other men scrambling.

She watched Leon roll to his feet off the couch and...move.

Though _move_ was a stupid word for what he did.

He came up under the arms of the man near the edge of the couch, rolled his shoulder, and divested him of the gun. He shot the second man with the first one still struggling against him. The third one turned to shoot him and got put down from a half crouch as Leon, never stopped moving, and just kicked the first man in the knee, pulled the trigger into his belly, and kicked him over the couch. The last one grabbed for him and Leon swung the gun like a bat, hit him along side the face, and pulled his own gun from somewhere to finish him off.

Spark in the dark. Done.

There was a shout and scramble of feet. Leon turned that gun on her and she called, "It's me! Don't shoot!"

And he commanded, "Get down!"

She dropped, he shot through the bedroom window behind her and killed the man there, and Jill stayed crouch. There was movement behind Leon like a wraith made of darkness.

Jill took out a shadow in the window beyond the kitchen. The glass shattered and there was a shouting beyond the door. Leon caught her eye down the hallway and tilted his head.

Jill moved in a crouching run down the hallway, went right, and headed toward Sherry's room. The little blonde emerged into the hallway with her dead attacker's gun in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She was speckled in dry blood but okay.

They moved in tandem toward the rear door as the fight in the living escalated. She wanted to go back and help him, but he'd sent her on. Jill, hesitating, decided just this once she'd take his lead and kept on going. They went out the back and looped around the side.

There were six men hurrying up from the fields toward the house.

Jill gestured with her head and Sherry slipped through the dark to take cover behind the car. Jill used the water trough and the edge of the house as cover and sighted. The front door was thrown open, a body came soaring out to smash into the next man creeping up on it, and Jill shot the stumbling man in the side of the head.

That's when one of the men roared, "They're armed! They're armed!"

What kind of amateur shit was this!?

A third man tried to move behind the car for cover and Sherry used the rifle in her hands to obliterate him. Blood looked black in the dark. It splattered. The men scattered.

And the front window of her house burst in a shower of sparkling shards.

The body hit the ground and rolled. The echo of gun fire sparked like fireworks. The thumps and breaking glass and grunting in her house made her very aware she was going to be doing some remodeling soon.

One of the men shouted, "For god's sake! He's one fucking guy!_ JUST KILL HIM!_"

Sherry caught Jill's gaze and shrugged. What had she said? He didn't think like other men. He was eight steps ahead of what those attackers threw at him. Hung over, half drunk still, and he still was best she'd ever seen. She caught glimpses of him just whipping asses without hardly trying. He moved in increments, tracking, adjusting and killing.

He turned, he tossed, he kicked and rolled and stabbed. He'd grabbed a knife off someone because he was flourishing it into the chest one one man and firing with that gun from the hip into another. The blood arched in a rich black splash all over his chest and shoulder as he opened the throat of his attacker.

Jill was so busy watching him with wonder that she stopped paying attention to her own situation. It got her shot in the back.

The bullet hit her shoulder and threw her forward into the wall. She grunted, Sherry shouted, and Jill rolled through it, coming up to one knee to fire back. The man ducked behind the combine in the field and shouted, "Give up! You can't win! We have twenty more men coming!"

And into the night? That voice carried as Leon laughed, "Good! I was getting bored!"

The man shifted and got himself shot in the narrow handful of seconds it took for him to shift cover.

Jill picked off two more as they shivered the tall grass to her left. There was a shouting and a scattering. Mass numbers or not, they were poorly trained. Her own stupidity was the only reason one had gotten a piece of her to start with.

She slid around the wall and took up position between the well and the barn. As two men emerged from the bushes, she took out one with a clean shot to the head and the second through the throat. Sherry let out a shout as one threw her into the side of the car and a second one grabbed for her gun.

Jill shot into the fray and hit the car, trying to scare them off her. There was a whistle and a knife protruded like a thumb out of the neck of the man shoving Sherry into the metal. Blood sprayed and Leon shouted, "GET DOWN!"

She did. The girl just dropped and Jill shot the other man the moment she cleared the view. Weirdly enough, they were all working fairly well together.

A man dropped off the roof right atop Jill and caught her off guard. Jill went down, he hit her clean in the face with the gun in his hands and he shouted, "I got her! I got her!"

Her?

Not Leon. Her. She was the target.

"What do I do!?"

The answer he got wasn't the one he wanted. "You die."

He was kicked in the back and stumbled, Jill grabbed her gun to swing it up into his balls and send him stumbling forward, and Leon grabbed him around the neck, tucked his head under his arm like a football, put the Magnum to his face, and pulled the trigger. Unnecessary, ugly, but execution style enough to be grossly entertaining. It blew blood and bone and brains in a macabre confetti all around them.

He tugged her up. Jill was already running to give him cover and Sherry veered out into the dark toward the gatehouse.

A whistle told Leon Jill had found some kind of place to cover him and he called, loudly, "What kind of worthless turds can't even take care of two girls!? I didn't realize that you could hire kindergartners to do assassinations. You wanna go inside and practice? I think we have some water guns you play with instead."

A bullet struck the barn three inches to his left shoulder and he mused, "Apparently BLIND kindergartners. I'm right here you fucking idiots, come on and take me out."

There was another bullet but this one killed the man creeping on him to his left. It was followed by a prime shot on a man cleverly concealed in the dark by the gatehouse. She might be a pain in his ass, but Jill was aces with that sniper rifle.

Leon took care of the next one that attempted to come around the side of the house. The fourth one was summarily executed by Sherry from her place in the gatehouse. That left two by his count.

And one was hiding beyond the car.

So Leon mused, "You want the keys? If you can get in and get gone before I hit you, you win."

The scared voice called, "Just give us the girl and we'll go!"

Looking pensive, Leon remarked, "Which one?"

Another one informed him, "The blonde one!"

And Leon laughed, "Got two of those, numb nuts. Try harder."

The voice returned, "The ugly one!"

That managed to make Leon actually chuckle, "Don't have any of those, I'm afraid. Anything else?"

The second man tried, "...the old one?"

Leon sighed and replied, "Sadly, I can't let you have her. Although I'd have known sooner who she was if you called her the bitchy one. Old as she is, she's still worth holding onto."

Asshole. Jill snorted out a laugh. The second the first man lifted his head, she blew the top of it off with her rifle. The last man in the band of idiots called, "I'm gonna run! Ok?! Just let me run!"

He started to do just that and Leon shot him in the back for it. As he went down, groaning and crawling, he kicked him to his back in the dirt, "Who sent you?"

The man whined, "I don't know! I swear! I don't know! She didn't give a name!"

She?

Leon tilted his head, "What did she look like?"

"P-Pretty! Pretty. Blonde. Big blue eyes. Fancy suit! She said something about avenging her brother. That's it. That's all I know. I swear!"

Leon knitted his brow, "Why did she want the woman taken hostage?"

"S-s-she said she wanted to kill her herself. You two were disposable, but the woman she wanted wasn't. She had to pay for what she'd done."

Who was it?

For the life of him, he couldn't figure it out. Leon shook his head, "You picked the wrong house to attack, guy. Your benefactor shoulda told you about me."

"...you ain't kidding. Let me go, ok? I won't tell a soul. You can let me g-"

Leon cut him off, "Your benefactor give you the ok to rape her before you brought her in?"

The man whined sadly, "...she s-s-said it didn't matter. She said the woman was a whore anyway. She said we could do what we want."

Later, Jill would think the moonlight must have flickered wrong across that handsome face, because the look on Leon's face wasn't just witty dismissal anymore. It was something feral and dark and scary. A trick of the shadows...clearly.

"Beg."

And the man whimpered, "...please! Please? Pl-"

The echo of the gun was loud. He was just turning when he saw Jill watching him from the shadows. She remarked, curiously, "You could have let him live. He might have had intel."

Her pulse was jumping. The moment he'd pulled that trigger, his profile had switched from feral rage to some kind of smile. There were layers behind all that perfect hair that she'd not even come close to tapping.

It spoke volumes about her that a feral murdering Kennedy was the one that made her pulse race without trying. She was all kinds of fucked up.

"He didn't. He was a grunt. I got what I was going to from him." Leon started toward her as Sherry emerged from the gatehouse. He called, "Kid?"

And Sherry returned, "I'm fine. Nothing on me. They were stupid and badly trained."

Jill said in agreement, "But someone wanted to take me. I can't think of who. I have no idea. Wesker didn't have female associates that way. Not any that would send a team to kill me."

"Rape and kill you," Leon corrected, "Pieces of shit. I'll find out who she is."

Without asking, he took Jill's chin and turned it into the moonlight. She had blood smeared up her face and the beginning of a black eye. His teeth ground together a little in stifled rage. Her arm was wet with blood as he asked, "Where?"

"Back right shoulder. It's superficial, but stuck in there."

Leon nodded. His jaw flexed, "We'll get it out. Get what you need, now, we're going back to the city."

She watched him move. She studied him as he did. He'd moved like water before, effortless and fluid. He didn't waste energy or time. He shifted that gun minutely and killed. His body was a weapon in itself.

She'd heard, of course, that he was good. But he wasn't good. He was incredible. She understood now why they'd blackmailed him into working for them. The immunity aside, he was a bad ass. He was a born warrior. Training had taken a boy with potential and made a machine.

If Wesker had known about him, about his immunity and his potential, there was no way he'd have been kept on a leash like he'd been. The government had to have known his value to someone like Albert Wesker. The wrong hands with someone like Kennedy would have been catastrophic.

If he'd defected and switched sides, it might have been a different outcome for Umbrella.

The fact that the war machine in the dark loading the car had a heart under that hard won skill? It kept him on the side of the people who wanted to save the world instead of own it. The only thing keeping Kennedy on the good side was his own morals.

It was a fine line between good guys and bad guys.

* * *

They took Sherry back to the compound.

They didn't speak until Jill was sitting on the tub in the bathroom letting him treat her wounds. He removed the bullet and let it ping into the bowl of clean water he'd brought with him.

She was shirtless while he cared for her.

Quietly, she jerked a little when it stung or hurt as he removed the bullet, and remarked, "...who sent them?"

Leon shrugged, "They were after you. Why?"

"I don't know."

He sighed. He looked tired over the blue v-neck t-shirt and holster he wore. Tired and hung over. She felt the roll of guilt and said, "I should never have hit you."

Surprised, he met her eyes in the mirror, as she added, "I was stupid. I was so ready to get you to believe me. To give you proof...I was rash and selfish and should have thought about something besides myself for once."

They held gazes until he finally looked away to pick up the bandage and secure it over her shoulder. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed, "My nose looks like a balloon. Ugly and old right? He was right about that."

His fingers touched just above the line of her bra as he took a deep breath and rose. She watched his profile in the mirror and wondered if he knew she could see him. His fingers stroked over her skin, the smallest touch, and he closed his eyes for a moment before he sighed heavily and rose, "I'll change that bandage in morning for you. You should try to get some sleep, Jill."

She watched him move. He washed his hands and scrubbed at his face and turned away to head to the living room and the couch.

Jill hesitated, holding her reflection in the mirror.

It was the first time she'd been painfully aware that he was angry at her and that she _cared _that he was. She trembled where she sat, touching a hand to her pulse in her throat. It was pounding hard enough to remind her she was alive. She was alive and breathing and he'd saved her life back there at the house.

They'd come to kill her and he'd saved her. He could have left her to die and been rid of her. Why didn't he let that happen? He was so angry at her. Why?

Because she could have gotten him killed?

No...because she couldn't have gotten them all killed. All of them. He didn't want her dead. He didn't want her hurt. He just wanted her to stop running and recover. He didn't hurt her, he didn't lie to her, he just kept going out of his way to help her.

Jill caught his wrist and held it. He didn't look at her. She didn't look at him either.

She spoke softly, but firmly, "Before they started dosing me with the drug, they tried to get me to consent with threats."

Leon paused, Jill rubbed at his forearm gently, "I did a lot of clocking people and running, Kennedy. A lot. I don't know if I can just stop being a cornered animal because I want to."

He glanced down at her, she look up at him almost pleadingly, "...I want to."

His eyes skimmed her face. She gave him a pitiful expression and tried again, "I don't know how to fix this. Can I?"

Leon took a deep breath. He shook his head, "Nothing to fix. You're here against your will, Jill. You don't want to be here. You hate me. You've made that clear. You don't have to fix that."

With a look like she was drowning, she told him, "...I don't hate you. I don't. I want to." She looked so sad, "I want to hate you so I can make this easier on myself. Even before, Kennedy, even before...I wasn't a woman who knew how to get close to someone. Now? I don't know how to stay close without feeling like you might..."

She trailed off.

With an undercurrent of anger, he stated, "I will _never _hurt you, Jill. Never. Don't you know that by now? What else can I do here?"

To his surprise, she whispered, "...don't run."

How the tables turned sometimes, he thought, how they turned and turned. He shook his head and gave her a sad look, "Not running, kid, just done fighting. I'm tired, Jill. I need to figure out who's trying to kill us and take you. I need to know about your time with him. I need you to talk to me. I need you to open your fucking mouth and talk."

She stared at him, looking panicked and frightened, "...if I talk about it...it haunts me even more. You-you won't want me anymore if I talk about, Kennedy. You won't look at me like something you want to touch and fuck...you'll look at me like I'm a monster. You're the only person in the world who believes in me...I can't lose that. I _can't. _I don't know if I could come back form it."

His face softened but he tugged his arm free, "Well, that's how we fight him. You have to let me in, Jill. You have to trust me. I can't help you until you do. But this? You can do this. You can sit down and talk. It's hard...but I will never abandon you. I don't care what you did. It wasn't you. It was him. Help me find a way to make sure what he left behind doesn't destroy anyone else."

She nodded, staring at her feet on the floor. She shivered on the edge of the tub. He hesitated and finally told her, "You know where to find me when you're ready."

Was she? Would she ever be? He'd never look at her the same again. He'd never hold her and sing for her and play for her and care. He'd look at her like she was a murderer, a monster, a freak. How did she help him without hurting herself?

She stared at her face in the mirror and touched the scars on her chest.

Gone or not - that device she'd worn still haunted her.

So her voice carried as she spoke, "...I'll tell you everything if you just...trust me."

There was no answer. Her throat seized with some level of sadness. She put her face in her hands and his voice made her jump, "It's gotta cut both ways, Jill. You gotta give it, to get it. How long that takes is up to you."

She was terrified of letting him, terrified of letting him go, terrified of needing anything at all from him.

And she was tired of being afraid.

Even cornered animal got tired of cowering eventually. It was time to decide what kind of fight was in her -and whether or not she was about to face it alone.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **_Fair warning...adult content ahead. Thank god._

* * *

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Valentine's Day**

* * *

**Winter**

**-February 14th, 2011-**

* * *

Her hand skimmed the scars. She held her own gaze in the mirror. _You have to learn to let me in, Jill. You have to learn to trust me._

She did. She already did. She didn't know how long ago it started, she just knew she wasn't afraid of him. She didn't fear or revile him. She hadn't ever really hated him on anything other than principle.

He'd never done anything but try to let her heal.

_You will submit to me, Jill. By choice or by design - you will discover who your master is._

A master.

A slave.

A victim.

Wesker voice in her head echoed. He was a man who made sure she knew who she belonged to. She was nothing but a possession or a toy or a weapon. Not human. Less than that. He'd never, ever touched her. He wasn't a man who touched women that way.

She'd suspected he was fucking Excella just to control her, but he didn't bother with Jill. He didn't even enjoy sex. He'd told her - _Sex is servile and oftentimes nothing more than sweat and sounds like animals. There's nothing but feral nature at the pit of it. Spreading your legs to accept a mate is simple procreation. I don't need to procreate...I'm already going to birth a new dawn._

He'd had her sit there like a statue in his chambers while he bathed and ate and dressed, watching him like a broken doll. When it suited him, he dressed her up and took her out under the influence of the drug to play pimp. He'd hand her over for money and influence and support. He traded her for favors or for business. He didn't watch, but Excella did.

She'd sit in her heavy white chair watching while men held Jill down and fucked her dry, fucked her bloody, came in her hair and on her face and all over her body. They'd fuck her until her ass ached and her body was bruised from their rough hands. Excella was excited by their perversions.

In the time she'd spent as his hand maiden, he'd given her to eight men. Eight. Eight men. Not even a good number for lovers over the course of a lifetime. Eight. A stupidly small number.

The first time she'd cried when the drug had worn off and left her able to control herself again. She'd tried to get away and ended up beaten by Excella's guards and tossed back into the cell where she was kept.

They stopped calling her Jill. They started calling her Dog. Excella was a bitch. A heartless shrew who was intent on keeping Wesker to herself. She followed him around cooing and touching him.

She slapped Jill around when it pleased her and made Jill perform when she was angry. On hands and knees, Jill would stare at her face in the windows of the compound where they held her while the fat face of Excella's African cartel connection fucked her roughly without lube. All the commands in the world couldn't make Jill wet for them. Her body he commanded, but her heart...that was always her own.

She'd gone into herself and hidden there after awhile, lost in dreams while they abused her. She'd picture a little girl with her eyes and a man who loved her. A life at the winery with nothing but laughter and long winters in front of a fire. She knew, she'd always known, she'd never have it.

But the dream had kept her alive.

She sat now listening to Leon in the living room.

He wasn't her type. Physically, he wasn't what had always been her type. She'd chosen Chris and Carlos for that dark, exotic thing that spoke of some kind of heritage that wasn't strictly Caucasian. Leon was blonde with that red undertone that gave credence to his father. He was blue eyed and pretty with a face that belonged on a magazine and not on a battlefield.

His body was rangy and lithe and muscled lean but hard. He wasn't heavily built, but strongly - a boxer or a swimmer or a quick footed fighter. He was all of those things. He was golden skinned that looked sun kissed without ever seeing the sun. Californian blonde like a barbie doll or something.

Not her type - physically. If she'd ever met him without the world on them...she might not have even looked twice. And that would have been her loss.

Every single thing about him was what she wanted. He was loyal and loving and dedicated. He fought like a badass and spent his nights brooding for a life more ordinary. He was musical and muscular and scarred from battle in a way that put masculine stamp across a pretty picture.

She wasn't disgusted by the idea of touching him; she was terrified. If she did it. If she let him in, what if he discovered deep down inside she was empty? What if he saw her bottomless broken glass and didn't want to get cut trying to piece her back together?

What if trying pushed him further away?

Her mouth tasted like pennies as she rose and followed him.

He'd just flipped on the television and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He had some files open on the coffee table and his glasses on his nose. He didn't even glance up at her as she stood there in her jeans and bra.

After a moment, she filled the silence, "I'm not sure sorry is enough for what I did."

He said nothing. He flipped papers on the table and jotted something down.

Jill cleared her throat. She told him, "I think an apology isn't going to cut it."

He didn't even glance up at her.

Chest tight, Jill reached for her zipper. She opened the button and pulled it down. That was finally enough to draw his eyes up from the file he was reading. He picked up his whiskey and took a sip, watching her.

She licked her dry lips and tugged. Her jeans spilled to the floor with a rustle of fabric. She stood in her bra and panties. They were mismatched. The blue bra, the white panties. They weren't sexy. They were simple. Homely, snugged around her heart-shaped ass like a hug.

He lit up a cigarette and said nothing.

Nervous, palms sweaty, Jill murmured, "You agree with him?"

His brows arched. He looked curious, "With whom?"

Whom. He was so proper sometimes. All that good breeding all over that perfect face. She felt her throat seize twice before she could speak, "Ugly...and old."

It was probably the first time in her life that she wanted a man to tell her she was beautiful. She'd been plain and sweet growing up. She'd struggled with her weight and ended up plump in highschool. She'd busted her ass to get in shape before she'd joined Delta.

She'd never been a women that turned heads like others. She had the long nose her father and the haughty expression of a mother who'd never loved her. Beauty had never been her driving force like most girls. Survival had.

It turned out, under everything, she was still a woman...and she wanted this man to tell her she was beautiful.

He scoffed. He smirked. He inhaled sharply and stubbed out the smoke. He finally said, "Go to bed, Jill. It's been a long night."

She shivered and shook her head, "I can't. I want you to forgive me."

He shrugged, "Sometimes you can't get what you want."

And she breathed, "But you can get what you need."

He laughed, but it was as little angry, "The Rolling Stones were the greatest poets of our time. I don't think our butchery of their words would suit them."

She hooked her thumbs in the hips of her panties and returned, "Yeah...I need you to forgive me."

He shrugged again, "I can't. I'm too fucking angry. Go to bed, Jill. Before we end up in a fi-"

She slapped the glass of whiskey right out of his hand. It was a surprise. It clunked on the table and the liquid splattered the wall. Leon's eyes flashed as she told him, voice hitching, "...you don't need that shit."

She watched him struggle with the anger, "...you think you're my mother? I can make my own damn decisions, Jill. Go make me a drink before you go to bed. Do us both a favor and g-"

She tugged her panties down her legs. He stopped talking. Her hands slid around and tugged to free the latch on her bra. It opened and she dropped it off her arms to the floor. A rustle of cloth in a pregnant silence.

Holy god. He completely forgot everything he'd been going to say. She stood there with a hand spread over her chest and the other over her mound. Beautiful. Pale and perfect and so painfully scared. It made him hard for her and hurt for her and angry at them both.

He finally licked his lips twice before he spoke, a little hoarsely, "...you don't have to do this, Jill."

Naked, she took heavy breaths while he stared at her, and she finally admitted, "I hate that you're mad at me."

Something softened on his face but he urged, "People get mad. It happens. You don't need to buy my forgiveness like this. Put your clothes on. I'll get over it, ok? You don't have to do any of this."

After a heavy moment, she confessed, voice breaking, "...but I want to. I think I _need _to. Will you let me?"

He cleared his throat, "..._why?"_

And her answer? It was all he needed to hear, "...I can't do anything but feel when you're close to me. Good or bad...I _feel. _I want you to feel me too. I want to feel you. I want to stop being afraid. I know- I know I look scarred and ugly...but I need to try...will you let me? You c-can close your eyes and picture someone else if you need to."

If he could, just once, pull the rotting corpse of that long dead bastard from the ground he'd have burned him alive again for this moment. She was so scared, so insecure, so beautifully, wonderfully, incredibly willing. And it under it all was an oily layer of fear for what had been done to her.

It was the first time in his life words failed him.

He didn't deny her, but he didn't tell her she was wrong either. Jill felt the moment sting. It was ok, it really was, if he needed to picture Ada Wong or something to touch her. It was ok. She'd survive it. There was little she couldn't survive.

But, by god, she was terrified of trying.

Finally, almost gently, he demanded, "Come here, Jill."

She stepped close to him and he parted his knees to let her in between. She shivered and his hand moved to her wrist. He tugged, gently, to remove it from groin. She kept her eyes on his face as she tugged away the one trying to cover the bounty of her breasts. He watched her throat swallow three times as his hands settled on her hips and he pulled her toward him..

Hers hung at her sides as she watched him put his lips to her belly. He kissed just below her naval and made her moan sweetly. His tongue slid out to play there delicately while she trembled before his lips traveled from one hip to the other and down. He kissed just over the top of her pubic bone. Her fingers shifted to his hair to slide in and peel it back to watch him.

His tongue smoothed down. It skimmed against the moist line of her eager entrance and Jill's voice gushed out in a scared squeak, "...w-w-wait..wait...not like that...not-I need you to show me how mad you are. How mad are you?"

She could see the frustration on him because he wanted to taste her. One of his fingers traced her opening and she panicked slightly, almost begging, "...I need-"

He didn't let her finish, he grumbled, "Me too. I need too."

Her body stiffened with it.

Without another word, he lifted his arms. She laid herself over his lap, trembling. Softly, she encouraged, "It's ok...touch me however you want."

This way was somehow the only way she felt safe with him. Face down over his lap was her happy place.

His eyes closed. He channeled some kind of patience he didn't know existed. His hands moved and one slid over her spine, stroking her. She shivered as it skimmed down and over her bottom. It touched between her legs and she resisted that, whimpering.

And she whispered, "No more sorry. Show me how mad you are."

His dick let him know how bad he wanted her. It hurt. It made his mouth dry. His hand petted her bottom and he answered, hoarsely, "I don't want to hurt you, Jill."

She whined a little and said, "...but I want you to. I'm asking. Please."

His hand skimmed over her spine and her butt again. She shivered and moaned. His voice hitched as he told her, "...you're beautiful, Jill. You're _beautiful._ When are you going to trust me?"

Without a moment passing, she told him, "I trust you. Show me how mad you are and forgive me."

His hand came down. It echoed. She gasped and jerked and moaned. Again. Again. Again. She was right. He was angry. He was so angry. People were trying to kill them and she was still trying to run and resist him.

But not now.

Not here.

She was utterly, completely, finally naked in his hands. She was across his lap and submitting and begging. She was open in a way he'd never imagined.

And he didn't want this. Not exactly. Not with a pall of anger and sadness over them both. Her blushing bottom was pink and perfect. He fondled it, stroking and kneading her. She whimpered and humped at his knees with a groan of excitement.

He wanted her to look at him not as something she hated or something she feared...but as something she wanted and he was tired of wondering if she ever would. It was time to test them both.

Without a word, he tucked two fingers into the swollen wet of her.

Jill gasped, she slapped her ass back on his hand. She grabbed behind her and he caught her hands with one of his to pin them to her back. He took her with his fingers and finally told her, roughly, "I wanna be _inside_ you, Jill."

Her thighs quivered, her head tossed a little as she took the steady assault of his digits into her body. Her answer killed them both as she almost sobbed, "...you already _are..."_

She didn't resist when he roughly stretched her body for his delving. She'd laid on his lap and just...surrendered. It made him feel like he'd gotten hit in the head again and woken up somewhere in a dream where she wanted him back. She'd run. She'd stop him and run. He was just waiting for it.

But _fuck it. _What had Sherry said? He was gonna love her as long as he could.

To be sure she understood, he informed her, hoarsely, "I wanna see your face and mount you, Jill. I want you to take me inside you. Completely. I need you to let me. You can say no, but say no now. Say it now and we'll stop."

Mount. Hell, even here his speech was so beautifully proper. He might have said fuck...but he said mount and made it clear he wanted to claim her.

Jill gasped, shaking on his lap, she lifted her butt at him like an invitation as he fingered her, as he spanked her, as he caught her face and turned it to the side to kiss her. She quaked in his hands and against his mouth moaned, "...don't stop, please? Don't."

His mouth dropped and bit into her bouncing butt. She cried out and warned him, "Don't stop!"

He needed her to _say it - _out loud- for both of them.

So he commanded her, harshly, "Say yes and let me have you."

With a high pitched cry, she gasped, "..._yes!"_

And stole the last of his anger. It didn't matter anymore. He tugged his fingers out of her and she made a small surprised cry. Without a word, he picked her up around him and she latched herself to his front.

He carried her into the bedroom and they spilled back on the bed as he kissed her. He wasn't easy. He was rough and desperate. He thrust his tongue into her mouth until she whined and submitted to that too.

He was so hard it hurt. Leon rose off her and jerked at his holster. He ripped it free of his belt and whipped the leather from his pants. His hands grabbed his shirt over his head and tugged, throwing it out into the darkness.

She painted her hands across his chest and belly as he lifted to jerk at his pants and get them off his body. They were kicked away with a clunk of his gun against the wall and he caught her around the hips and half tossed her up on the bed so he could crawl after her.

Jill opened her legs and her arms. His fucking heart slammed so hard it hurt to see her do it and slid between her thighs to kiss her. She took his face to return it. His hands moved up her belly to her breasts to palm and roll them. She shivered and whimpered. Her thighs trembled around his hips.

Leon leaned up to see her face as he lowered his mouth to fill it with her breasts. She grabbed for his hair and gripped, bowing as he licked and tugged, sucked and bit. He wasn't gentle. He was hungry. She didn't fight him. She didn't quiver in fear.

She just gave it back to him.

He licked her scars and caught the back of her neck to jerk her up to his face as he growled, "Beautiful, Jill. Say it. Tell me you believe it."

Her eyes sparkled with tears as she grabbed his face and whined, "...no..don't you understand? It's not me you're seeing. It's you all over me. It's you..._you're_ beautiful."

He was _in love_ with her. He didn't know when it had happened. It didn't matter anymore. It was over. Crazy or not, she was in him. His hand slid down and plunged into her. She cried out and humped his crude assault. He crudely laid claim to her while he kissed her and her hands grabbed at his hips and his arms and his back, kneading and petting and pulling.

Wild.

She was wild.

Set free from the horror of what had shaped her into a thing that feared the flesh, she was mad with it now. She'd never felt anything like it in her whole life. Letting go enough to open for him, it was freeing. It was liberating. It was like she'd opened a door in her head and let the power of her own need out to bury them both.

Jill didn't panic when he licked down her belly and over hips. She didn't do anything but watch the crown of his head with something akin to joy. He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth and she whined, watching his face as he savored her flavor. He looked like her skin tasted of things she'd never understand.

She wanted to taste him to see if it was addicting.

She gathered his face to pull him up to her. She tilted it back to lick and bite at his neck and over the pulse there. She nipped at his shoulder and tried a taste of his nipple. He grunted. He pulled her face back up to see her. His fingers stretched her while her thighs jerked and she felt her mouth open on a high pitched keen.

His tone was gruff, "...what do you want, Jill? What do you need?"

He fucked her deep and hard with that hand until her body dewed with sweat and she begged, "...oh _god...__please..."_

For him, it was _intoxicating. _Here was a woman that was willing to beg and bleed and lay down and let him have her. It was the first time since he'd started sniffing around girls that he knew...he _knew _she'd do whatever he wanted. That kind of power made him feel like a conquering hero.

His fingers slid out of her. His hands slicked the hair off her face as she grabbed for his hips and he intoned, voice low and dragging, "Say my name."

He needed to hear it. The only thing she wanted. One word. He _needed _to hear it.

Her eyes opened. She whimpered. Her eyes teared up as she gasped, shaking in his arms, "...Leon..."

"Yeah, _Leon_." He shoved into her. It felt like claiming a country after a great war. She immediately came apart. Her legs hooked and her hands grabbed and she screamed. The tears on her face were good, he thought as he held himself there, good. They were tears of victory for them both.

Gruffly, he urged, "Tell me what you want, Jill." He trembled buried inside of her. She shook like she was about to seize.

Her answer rocked them both, "You. Just you. Hurry. Give me all of you."

He did that too. He caught her face and she grabbed a handful of his hair and one of his ass and his hips lifted and went hilt deep again. They both groaned. They both moved. Neither of them looked away.

The rhythm wasn't fast. It wasn't manic. It was slow and eager and hard. It clapped when he claimed her. Her body sucked him in and set the pace with its need. She eagerly lifted and swallowed him. Her body was slick, tight, and hungry; his was hard and merciless. As he rode in, she grabbed his ass and rolled him in her, and he rode out to go in again.

No condom. No need. He didn't want anything between them. He wanted to feel her, to fuck her so hard and deep she could feel him in her womb. He just wanted to claim her. As if he'd won some kind of battle to be inside of her in a way that he felt like a conquering champion to own her.

It was possessive and rolled out of his mouth on a curse as he held her gaze and groaned, "I wanna come inside you, Jill."

Her voice broke, "You are...you _are_..."

He grabbed her face in his hand. He stopped fucking her to hold himself still. They both panted. He shook his head, "No. I want to _cum _inside you, Jill. Do you want that?"

She gasped. She whined as she felt her body seize on the edge of release and answered, voice breaking, "..._yes!"_

Yes.

All the nos in the world and it wasn't yes. Now? It was yes.

He stopped being gentle and just started hammering her.

He shifted, shoving her further up the bed, her butt cupped his groin as he grabbed her face and took her so deep it ached, and his mouth beside her ear gruffed, "Who am I?"

With a trembling cry, she returned, "..Leon!"

The sound of his own name did it. It was enough. He pinned her to the bed and came in her. It felt so good that he actually lost his rhythm and nearly fell over. He cursed and kissed her, gasping through it, "...shit..shit shit..._Jill..._fuck.."

She almost laughed at how wonderfully broken it sounded. No hard-won control here. Just release. She grabbed his hair to see his face and told him, "Don't stop, ok? Don't stop."

He answered that with a heavy thunder of his hips finding their rhythm again. He rode her body through his orgasm, fucking her sticky heat while she bounced back against him. The pleasure. She'd never known it was like this.

She'd wondered, as a girl, but she'd never known. His whole lap was wet from her. Her face flamed with embarrassment. She felt her body tighten like a fist as she begged, whining, "...I'm sorry." She almost shouted it.

He shook his head. He grunted with anger. And he fucked her harder, growling, "I forgive you, Jill...shut up."

She laughed. She gasped. She clutched him...and she came. She came and came and whimpered and cried and bounced and fell apart. It was incredible. It was everything she'd thought it might have been before the world had been taken from her and left her broken.

She humped against his thrusting dick while she groaned and grunted and gasped and ground him inside her. Their sweaty bodies stuck together as she flopped back and he fell atop her on the bed.

They both panted. They both shook desperately.

Her arms were splayed out and her legs looped lazily over his. He gave her all his weight to pin her to the bed. Somebody's breath whined as they breathed.

When the fan above them finally started to cool their dewy flesh, Jill lifted her hands to cup his butt. She rolled him inside of her. He groaned into her ear. She made a small sound of surprise and wondered, "...you're still hard."

He grunted, "...story of my life around you, kid."

Her heart shivered. She laughed as the tears leaked out and plopped on the sheets, "...I still hate you."

He laughed. He just laughed into her neck and shoulder. She gripped his ass and rolled her hips to feel him in her. Her voice was so full of wonder, "It feels so good."

He lifted his head to look down at her. His hair fell in his face and she moved her hands off his ass to push it back and see him. He panted, scanning her face, "Does it? It feels better inside of you, Jill. I promise you."

She moaned. He shifted his hips toward her. She whimpered and her face collapse in pleasure. The tears trembled on her as she confessed, "I thought I'd run."

He laughed. He rolled his hips to push into her again and they both shivered as he returned, "...me too. I'm really, really fucking glad you didn't."

With that said, he started moving in her again. She arched her back and let the feel of it wash over her. His hands caught hers and settled over their heads. Slick and ready, they moved together slowly, easily, but in a way that made Jill shake beneath him.

The rhythm was slow, slow, slow. It was aftermath sex. If he kept fucking her, he'd harden again completely. So he rolled his hips and kept moving inside of her. Her breath sobbed out, her hands slapped at his ass to hold onto him as her thighs quivered around his lazy thrusting.

And then?

She started talking. She started talking breathlessly, hoarsely, while he threw his hands down like a push up and kept on going.

Eyes blurry, body shaking, she confided, "...I was...I-' She lost her voice and bowed a little until she grabbed his sides and went on, "I was never anything that mattered...to anyone. Not to Wesker, not to Chris...I-oh jesus christ-"

Her hands shifted to his face. They caught and held as her legs tightened around his hips and tried to open at the thighs to let him closer. She whimpered, "I don't know how to do this..._fuck..."_

And he laughed. It was hoarse but real. He grunted, "I think we're already doing it."

She echoed the laugh and slapped his face playfully while he groaned, "...I don't know how to open up for you, for this...you gotta stop moving, Leon...I can't focus."

He dropped his mouth to kiss her, "That's the point. That? It's later. Right now? The only thing that matters is _this. _So just let it happen...and don't run."

Her body arched. He stroked some part of her that made her jerk like a live wire. His hands caught her legs under the knees and hiked them up over his arms. It worked like a charm.

They were both slick and panting as he opened her for him - and she finally, finally, finally just let him in.

_You have to learn to let me in, Jill._

He was in. He had what he wanted. What they both wanted.

It was hard to determine where he ended and she began.

It was the first time in her life she just...surrendered.


	17. No Hope17

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Intertwined **

* * *

**Spring**

**-April 20th, 2011-**

* * *

_"It's come to our attention that you may have violated more than your fair share of governing principles with the prisoner, Director Kennedy. It's been alleged that you are, in fact, involved in a torrid affair with her. We bought you here today to answer these allegations and explain evidence to corroborate them. Is there anything you would like to say before we begin?"_

_Into the silence, he faced the firing squad of faces and suits without a single shiver of doubt. His voice carried to the room at large as Leon answered, calmly, "Everything I did, I did in service to this country."_

_No one laughed._

_No one even attempted to._

_It was hard to believe that they just might buy it._

_The screen began to play. The eyes all turned to watch the spring roll out in his apartment with "the prisoner in his custody." No privacy, no hope for it, the whole of his world was exposed to the judgmental suits that lingered around the table._

_He'd once joked to Jill that he was impervious._

_He was about to see just how bulletproof he really was._

* * *

**March 11th, 2011**

* * *

"Don't you dare!"

She tilted her head at him. "What?"

"I mean it, Jill, don't."

How many times had they been here? Too many, it seemed. She rolled her lip under, shrugged, and dumped the rest of his scotch down the sink. He shouted in horror, rushed her, and she yipped and dropped the bottle.

It clattered in the sink as she ran for it, yelling, "You don't _need _it! It's just a crutch!"

"I can't walk without it, woman! You're trying to kill me!"

"I'm trying to help you, you blithering dumbass! Get off the sauce and be a man!"

She ducked left into the bedroom and kicked the door closed, squeaking when she heard him vault over the couch in pursuit of her. She had a handful of seconds to make a decision and she threw herself behind the door.

He kicked it open and she leaped on his back with a whoop.

He spun, grabbing for her and she sank her teeth into his shoulder hard enough he grunted. "...bitch!"

Jill slapped his ass with a musical laugh. "You kiss your spy with that mouth!?"

How far they'd come, he thought wildly, to get to this point where she was laughing instead of screaming. He grabbed her arm and tugged. She let him toss her right up over his shoulder and on the bed as he told her, "I haven't kissed a spy in a long time, sweet cheeks. Come over here and let me show you."

She laughed, crawling over the bed and he grabbed her ankles to tug her back. She went flat down on her belly as he tugged her until she was poised with her perfect ass right up toward him like a teepee. His hand came down and struck, she moaned and wiggled, and he tugged her panties down while she tossed her head around to look at him. Her lower lip rolled into her teeth as his mouth kissed delicately over her bottom and the marks he'd made with his palm.

She made a small sound of want. He tilted his head, "You like that?"

And before she answered, his hand struck her naked flesh. It pinked, she whimpered, and he kissed her other cheek while she wiggled on the bed. She whispered, "...you like to kiss my ass, Kennedy?"

He laughed. He just laughed, and she grinned moaning when he skimmed his hands up the back of her thighs to grip her little panties and pull them down and off her completely, "What can I say? Sometimes a girl just needs her ass licked."

She let out a beautiful sound almost like a giggle and made him feel like the world, maybe, just wasn't so bad. She was a constant, continuous, unending pain in his ass and he had never been happier.

She wondered, "...isn't that kinda gay? Licking asses?"

She loved how bright with joy he was, "...only if it's two dudes, I think."

"You use to call me Bill."

He skimmed his tongue over the swollen heat of her and made her keen as he clarified, "I think you're a girl."

Jill gasped high and happy, "You think!?"

"Relatively sure, need to do a taste test to confirm."

Her voice vibrating with want and humor, Jill asked him, "Is there a scratch and sniff test as well?"

"Oh, honey, absolutely." But he didn't do that. He licked her. Right over her tail bone and right on down. She gasped, she bucked, and he put his mouth against the swollen core of her to taste her.

If there'd been a chance of taking her world and making it shimmer, he'd done it. He touched her like she was made out of glass and gold. His mouth and hands worshiped, rewarded, and disciplined her in turns.

As she gasped and bucked toward his face, he rolled her over onto her back and dropped to his knees on the floor to pleasure her. Her legs settled over his shoulders, her hands twisted in his hair, her eyes locked on the fan swirling above her and she let the need of it crush her down and leave her breathless.

She watched him worship her body with his lips and teeth and tongue. He hummed as he went, making her gasp and groan and hump his face. Once they'd dropped that gate, it was always like this. She panicked and he comforted her. He brooded and she comforted him.

In the night, when she woke he played for her and she played with him. On her knees, with her mouth around him while he watched her swallow and pleasure him, he didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.

She didn't shy away from him. She opened her arms and held him, opened her legs and took him, opened her mouth and talked to him. When she woke weeping in a state one night, he'd rolled atop her and into her. She'd gasped, shaking, and came back to herself. She'd rolled him to his back and rode him to the finish crying. But it wasn't bad. It was so good. She used it to heal the rifts in her that were ugly and dark.

When he touched her in a way that sparked fear in her, she held him down and echoed it back, taking him with her as she found her power in the pain she'd survived.

He rose as she came, gasping and swirling her hips, and her hands caught his zipper to jerk it down without words. He spilled atop her, she freed him form his pants and shoved them to his thighs and he took her. Wet, ready, she just opened for him.

Her body arched and her skin sang. She grabbed his ass and forced him into her faster.

He commanded, "Tell me what you want."

And she gasped, desperately, "_Leon."_

Yeah, he thought, madly. Leon.

There was no Kennedy here. No terror. No war. Just two people trying to remember what life looked like before it all fell apart.

Just Jill and Leon.

He gripped her chin to make her look at him.

And he filled her full of him.

* * *

**April 20th, 2011**

* * *

_The video paused and he tapped his fingers on the table. "She responded well to the interrogation. She was particularly receptive to...forceful techniques."_

_The faces all looked less than impressed._

_So he clarified, "Sex was used as a weapon to gain her capitulation in captivity. I've used it here to restore her personal confidence and develop trust. She trusted me enough to begin to divulge anything she knew after copulation."_

_It was official. He was the greatest liar in the whole world. He didn't need to learn anything from her._

_He just needed to learn how to hold on to her._

* * *

**March 24th, 2011**

* * *

Jill's tongue traveled down his spine and she added teeth as she bit him on his left hip. He jumped and had her laughing, "I won't...ok I _will _bite, but not hard."

She bit into his left ass cheek to prove her point and got a grunt from him before he rolled over to grab onto her, "Ok..hah...shit. I can't. I'm sorry. I can't have you chewing around my ass...it's weird."

Her face was alight with laughter. "What?"

"It's..." He pinked a little and chuckled as she straddled his lap instead to sit on him, "It's gay or something."

Oh, it was a moment. Her eyes sparkled. She felt her mouth twitch. She found him, possibly, the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. "It's gay to let me kiss and bite your ass? Why? I didn't offer to lick your butthole."

He couldn't stop it, he burst out laughing until she smacked his chest to get him to stop. "Sorry...Lord in heaven high on crack, Jill...come here." He took her face to tug her down as he told her, "It's not if I do it to you."

Her eyes flared wide, "What?"

"I can do it to_ you_...you can't do it to _me_...that's gay."

"Are we back to this again? I'm not a guy."

"So?"

"How can it be gay if I'm not a guy?"

"...the butt..."He looked thoughtful before he decided, "The butt is a gay zone, Jill. It's a place where boys don't go...unless they like other boys."

"Some men like a woman to stick a finger in their ass."

He felt the wonderful humor bubbling up in him, "...some men like for a woman to take a shit on their chest too. I am not either of those men, darling."

"You did like that golden shower I gave you once though, right? You want one again?"

"Depends...do you?"

"What if I just knead the cheeks and nibble _above _the ass."

He had to get his breath back from chuckling before he could answer, "...I think it's still gay."

"I like your ass."

She loved his face too. He looked embarrassed. She grabbed the ass in question to knead it with her hands, "Why does that embarrass you?"

"It's only sexy for men to admit that."

She looked legitimately confused, "Why?"

"I don't know," Frustrated, amused by it, he shrugged and chortled, "I didn't make the rules. I just know you can't be biting and licking around my butt. You can't. It's gay."

"...can I drip hot candle wax on it?"

He didn't think he'd ever laughed so hard in his life. His mouth moved against her neck. He shook his head and his voice was breathy from laughing, "Depends...you ready to peel back that wax and get a chunk of butt hair with it?"

Her beautiful laughter was like music. She collapsed against him and he wrapped her close. "...you are possibly the biggest idiot I've ever met, Mr. Kennedy. You don't have a hairy ass!...thank god! Because...gross."

"Sure I do. Manly men have hair on their ass, sweetheart. Gross? That's hurtful, Jill. I just came in here to fuck you, and I'm honestly feeling very attacked right now."

She gripped his chin to turn it down to her. Jill gave him a bland expression and he winked in response. She wondered, "What's the winking? You got something in your eye?"

His teeth flashed, "I got my eye on you, sweetheart, don't you know that? Can't stop looking at ya."

Her face flushed and charmed him as she pushed playfully on his chest, "You're not as cute as you think you are."

"..yes, I am." He kissed behind her ear.

She chuckled and tried to block his hands from attempting to get around her to tickle her, "How old are you?"

"Old in body; young at heart."

She grabbed onto that old body and laughed, "You are an idiot."

"Maybe, but I'm _your _idiot."

She kept on laughing until he started to tickle her.

They struggled and ended up on the floor. Nobody was laughing at all by then.

* * *

**-April 20th, 2011-**

* * *

_"She informed me of a compound with Wesker's components that he'd had her guard on the border of Chad and Sudan. She became...more pliant with every orgasm. It appears she was a sexual creature under the trauma she's suffered. The key to her loyalty was clearly found between her thighs."_

_They were all looking at him now like they believed him._

_Hell, he was selling it like the cure for cancer. He almost believed it himself. He'd been fucking her to get her to tell him her secrets. Right?_

_No. He'd been fucking her to get her to tell him anything at all. He'd been fucking her to feel alive._

* * *

**-April 9th, 2011-**

* * *

"What the hell is a "chad"?" Jill was gesturing to his laptop as he emerged from the gym panting.

His brows arched, "What?"

"A chad...what's a chad?"

Snorting, he went to the kitchen for water, "I don't know. Why?"

"Because someone on your high school reunion page says you're one."

He laughed and shrugged, "Maybe it means a hot piece of ass."

Her laughter still made him feel like someone was wiggling fingers of joy into his chest. It was an odd feeling. She shook her head, "Come over here and let me bite it."

"We talked about this, Jill," He teased as he crossed by to head to the shower, "That's gay."

"...were you in the physics club in school!?" It echoed with amusement. Her voice was high pitched and full of humor.

Stoic, he told her, "Get off that site. Why are you on there?"

"You weren't a chad...you were a total geek! Look at your skinny knees!"

He snapped the top closed on the laptop and pointed at her nose, "Don't judge, Valentine, without physics there would be no knowledge of the atom. Everything you see can be traced back to some physicist discovery laws of nature. Physics are the reason you get wet when you look at those skinny knees of mine."

Her grin was wide and happy, "Do I? That's pretty arrogant to assume...for a big fucking dork."

His gaze narrowed, "...don't push me. I'm too stinky to spank you right now."

He rose to go to the shower.

She slapped his ass as he walked and gave him pause. Her brows arched. He tilted his head, "You just pick a fight with me, Valentine?"

Jill's eyes sparkled, "Nope."

He turned and she smacked his butt again. It had him spinning around, "Ok...clearly you want to battle."

Jill picked up the pillow from the couch beside her. "...I will hit you in the face with this, sir."

Leon licked his teeth and bobbled his brows, "...worth it."

He leaped over the couch and she took off squealing with laughter. He got hit in the face with the pillow, but he used her breasts as them that night for bed...seemed like a fair trade.

As he slept, she touched his hair and his nose. Everything could be traced back to laws of nature. What was the one that said she was attached to him? Was it a law? She didn't know...but it felt pretty concrete.

* * *

**-April 20th, 2011-**

* * *

_"What if she were to become pregnant, Director? Have you considered the ramifications?"_

_Nope._

_Not once._

_His belly tightened. He tapped his fingers on the table. "I'm taking precautions, but if she does - it will be dealt with."_

_One of the suits remarked, "She has a T-Virus immunity, yes? Wouldn't impregnating her be wise? A child with both parents immune?"_

_Leon spoke coldly now, "I will not impregnate her so you can use the fetus like a science project. Do you understand me?"_

_"It was only a suggestion, Mr. Kennedy. Stand down."_

_Someone else commented, "Director, what's your determination on her condition? Can she be released on her own recognizance?"_

_His throat tightened but he answered without hesitation, "It's in her best interest to stay in confinement with me."_

_There was murmuring before they spoke again, "What about fieldwork? We need you in the field. We need to know if she's capable of shadowing you. She has service to perform, Director. We need her cooperation."_

_Without missing a beat, he avowed, "I'll get her cooperation and I promise you...I'll make sure she's of service."_

_"We will leave you to it then. Your methods are unorthodox, Director, but the results are undeniable. We will send someone to raid the compound on the border of Chad and Sudan. Continue to adhere to captivity requirements and using whatever method necessary to gain her continual surrender."_

_"...all in service to my country, sir. I am, as always, a patriot."_

_"Director, should she become pregnant after all, despite your precautions - we would sanction the pregnancy and allow it. It should be something you discuss with her. For the life of the child, we would grant her immunity to prosecution for her crimes and her immediate release upon delivery."_

_They wanted Jill to buy her freedom by giving birth. They were no better than Albert Wesker. Power corrupted and made soulless monsters in its place._

_However, one thing remained true:_

_He'd just gotten permission from the United States Government to keep on fucking Jill Valentine._

* * *

Her hands were bound above her head. On her belly, she moaned and shivered. He spanked her while she gasped, arching her bottom toward him. To satisfy her, the second time she lifted her butt, he gripped her hips and drove his dick into her slick wet heat while she whined and jerked.

They both groaned. Jill whimpered when he pulled out and he told her, "Beg. Surrender. Cooperate. I'll give it to you."

Her bottom blushed and her mouth turned up in a smile, "You think you're so goddamn clever, don't you? Why don't we see how tough you are...let me tie you up."

Shit.

He felt the challenge. If he said no, he was a coward. So he laughed and shrugged, "Why not? Sure." He uncuffed her and she eased him onto his back. There was a moment of panic as she cuffed him to the bed.

She watched it flicker on his face as she cooed, "Yeah...it's like that. Afraid?"

His pulse skipped and his mouth smiled wolfish, "...do your worst, princess."

Wrong words. Wrong, wrong words. She pushed his hip and sent him to his belly. He had a handful of seconds to figure out what she would do - and she brought her hand down on his ass. Not gentle. Not even close.

She let him have it.

It echoed. She moaned and his brows shot up as he glanced over his shoulder, "What's up pervo? You like that?"

She laughed with delight and pressed a kiss behind his shoulder. Her hands skimmed down his sides and inside his thighs. She slipped her palm under him until he lifted his hips so she could cup his dick in her palm and stroke him.

It was him that moaned and made her laugh breathlessly into his ear. "Oh? It's good? Just go with it."

Her hand came down and smacked his ass. He jerked and she tugged him into a sharp roll with her fist. He grunted, shaking, and she cooed above him. "...god. It's almost as good to be in control, right? I can do whatever I want to you."

A little worried, he gasped as she kept on pulling his dick, "...fuck..."

Her eyes twinkled, "We can...but you gotta beg."

Leon panted, thrusting his hands against her hand, "...I've been trained to resist torture."

She chortled and brought her hand down on his ass again. He jerked, she rolled under him, and she demanded, "Beg. Come on. You can do it."

He leaned down to kiss her. She turned her head and denied him and he relented shaking with need, "...fuck..._fuck..._fine! Fine. Please."

Her eyes were huge and blue in her face. "Say it again."

"...you bitch," But he laughed with delight, "...please."

"I love it when you beg." She let go of his shaft and opened her thighs. Her hands gripped his ass and she jerked him into her. He pulled on his arms and she told him, mewling a little, "...nope. No hands. Just this. Just like this."

He stopped trying to get free and just started shoving into her body. She cried out, her hands came down on his ass like spurring on a racehorse, and his body responded. He plowed her while she bounced, nearly screaming with it.

He had the permission of the government to fuck her.

He just had to tell her that he'd denied the petition for her release. He'd chosen not to let her go. If she knew, she'd either love him for it or hate him forever. So he said nothing. Redfield had tried to convince him she could be removed to his care, but Leon had shot that down and basically told the big man to fuck off for asking. It was done. Whatever else was true, she was stuck with him as much as he was stuck to her.

He kissed her wet and slow and watched her face while he took her. He should have let her go. He should have allowed it.

He couldn't. It was the first time in all his life he'd felt...wanted. Not like some science experiment that performed well or somebody's namesake...just him. Just a simple, ordinary, perfectly average guy needed by a woman in a way that made him feel like he mattered. What he did here, with her, it made a difference. If he let go of that...he'd go back to being a lapdog without a life.

It turned out he was her prisoner after all. He was bound to her in need. He didn't know how to let her go. They were both fucked.

It was a good thing they had permission.

* * *

**Summer**

**-September 4th, 2011-**

* * *

"Wait!"

The bottle hit the wall and shattered. It spilled spicy tomato juice all down the glass like blood.

"Just wait!"

"You told them I was unfit! You told them I was still a risk! You told them I was feeding you information for sex!?"

He tracked her, feeling the pangs of fear. "Yes, I did. I had to! Jill, they had footage of us. Of everything. I had to tell them something!"

Her eyes sparkled with rage and tears of betrayal, "You should have told them I was innocent! You should have told them you believed me! You should have let me go!"

His mouth was dry, "Listen to me, please? Please listen."

She picked up a glass from the drainer and chucked it like a bullet. He feinted left and it hit the fireplace. She grabbed a plate and winged it like a frisbee. He ducked and it hit the bookcase behind him. "Jill...stop!"

"No! You bastard! You selfish, stupid, lying bastard! You don't believe me!? You think I'm a risk!?"

"_No!_" It echoed. It scared him. He sounded desperate, "No! I believe you! I want to help you! I swear to god!"

Her face broke down and built back up with anger. "You told them I was unstable...you said..." She grabbed the report off the table. How had she gotten it!? Who had given it to her!? But he knew that...he _knew..._REDFIELD. "You said I was...an emotional basket case with a borderline personality disorder."

Her face crumbled. He felt like he might throw up with guilt. Leon moved forward and she lifted her hands at him, eyes snapping, "Don't you _dare _touch me!"

He grabbed her anyway and she shouted, struggling. She slapped his face and his chest, she kicked and she fought. He caught her back to his front and took her from the kitchen. He lifted her off her feet and carried her while she struggled, "I lied."

She shouted, "I know you lied! YOU ASSHOLE!"

"No!" He shouted back and had her shivering, "I lied! I lied to them because I couldn't let you go! Ok!? I couldn't let you go! I can't! I'm not ready! OK!? It's _me! __I'm_ the one who needs _you_!"

She froze. He set her down and turned her toward him. He caught her wrists and dragged her into him. "It was me. I was stupid. I was desperate. I lied. I lied so I could keep you. I did that. I lied because I'm not ready to let you go. I'm not ready...I'm not."

He trailed off. She hitched out a heavy breath. Who lied to hang on to someone?! Who did that?!

A man who'd been someone's pawn for a very, very long time...and probably thought that's how you played the game. Didn't he understand? There were no games in love. Not unless he made them himself.

Finally, into the desperate silence, she whispered, "I'm not a toy, Leon. I'm not something you can keep. Don't you understand? Haven't you been listening?! I can't be your prisoner. I can't. I'm not a possession. I won't ever be again. You have to let me go."

His hands trembled as he told her, "...I can't. It's too late. They gave me permission to bring you on missions. They cleared you for duty adjacent to me, but they won't reevaluate until a year from now..."

Her eyes trembled with tears. She jerked on her arms and he held her, looking at her almost pleadingly, as she whispered, "...a year...another year...you were going to what? Keep lying and fucking me in this house for another year like some whore? Like something you owned?"

His eyes snapped with anger, "Don't do that. Don't. It has _never _been like that, and you know it. There were two people doing the fucking, Jill. I _never _used you."

She shook her head. She jerked on her arms again, "You _lied. _You lied. You lied instead of talking to me. You lied and manipulated me. You said I could trust you. You promised...and you lied."

"...I was trying to protect you."

It was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes snapped, "From what!?"

"...yourself." He shook her a little, "You were having episodes of full-on psychosis, Jill. You weren't ready to be on your own."

Heartbroken, she gave him such a sad look, "Don't you understand? You didn't talk to me. You didn't ask what I wanted. Maybe it started out like that...but it hasn't been that way for a long time. You didn't have any faith in me...and I just lost mine in you."

That hurt somehow worse than a bullet in the gut. "I was just trying to do the right thing."

Jill shook her head, "The right thing was to talk to me like a person...not treat me as a prisoner. Maybe I was...but we both know the moment you started touching me what this was. Your reports? You let the world think I'm a nutcase...so you could keep on fucking me."

It wasn't like that. It wasn't, but he didn't know how to explain it. How do you explain to the woman you're trying to love that no one in your life had ever cared enough to choose to stay? If he'd let her go, she wouldn't have stayed. He'd have lost her.

Apparently, he was going to lose her anyway.

He tired, so hard, to think of a way to stop her from pulling away from him. But she whispered, "Let go of me."

Jesus.

His voice was hard because he was so afraid she was done with him. So he just...shut down. It's what he did, "There were two people doing the fucking, Jill. Say what you want, but I wasn't the only person in this apartment lying."

Her eyes flickered with pain, "...what did you say?"

"You're not mad at me for filing reports like that. You're mad because we both know you wanted me to. You wanted me to keep you here. You wanted to be here with me as much as I wanted to keep you...and I was the only one with enough balls to make it happen. Deep down inside, you _loved _being my prisoner. Maybe you loved being Wesker's too. Maybe you always enjoyed being controlled. Admit it, me keeping you here...doing what I did...it took away the pain of admitting yourself, just once, that you liked bein trapped with me. Being bound to me...was probably the first time you've felt safe in years. Say what you want, Jill, but we both know stopped running a long time ago. So, who's the liar now?"

His hands released. She jerked hers free and slapped him. She slapped him across the face and he let her. Her breath hitched and her lips trembled, but she didn't cry. "...I never lied to you. Never once. I would never have lied to keep you here. I would have trusted you to stay, even if I set you free. You don't trust me any more than I can trust you...Kennedy."

His heart jerked, "It's Leon. You know what my fucking name is."

"I do. Leon was a guy I could trust. You? You're just a government lapdog." She shoved him aside. She hurried from the library.

He stood there aching. He let his eyes close. It took everything he had to gather up enough strength to stand there when he wanted to weep. The guilt, the pain, and the massive desire to chase after her made him feel ill.

He didn't cry.

He went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of scotch.

Apparently, he was once more in need of a crutch. Jill? She cut off his fucking leg and left him limping. It was just enough to keep him from running after her to bring her back.

No more Jill and Leon.

It was once more Kennedy and Valentine.

He poured another drink and hated himself.


	18. No Hope18

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-96 Floors Up-**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Hard Habit to Break**

* * *

**Winter**

**-December 24th, 2011-**

* * *

He sputtered, slapping his hands on the edge of the pool as he pushed himself free again. "Goddammit, Valentine! Stop fucking pushing me!"

Jill passed by him in her swimming suit and helped herself into the other side of the pool. "Sorry. It looked like you needed a hand getting in the water."

This is what they did. It was so ripe with hostility on some days that he was sure one of them was going to pick up a knife and stab the other one to death. She was curt and he was painfully polite when it suited. They were deliberately antagonistic when that didn't work.

She'd seen him stretching on the side of the pool with his back to her and just walked right up and shoved him in.

Juvenile.

Stupid.

But she hadn't run.

Not once.

Not since it happened.

She was livid. She was mean as a snake and twice as slippery. She was never in the place she'd been that allowed him to talk to her. But she didn't run.

She still woke up panicking and he still played and nobody said a word about it.

He had to figure there was still hope for them after that.

He eyed her in the water. She gave him a narrow look. With a sigh, he hefted himself out of the pool. "Enjoy your swim."

"Oh, I will. Now that there aren't any more sharks in the water."

She hated him. He'd tried, so hard, to explain better why he'd done it, but it was hard to explain when someone was throwing things at you. He'd ducked and covered, he'd bobbed and weaved, she'd chucked just about everything he owned at him at one point.

"I'm sorry!" He'd shouted it.

Without missing a breath, she'd shouted back, "_FUCK _your sorry!"

So there they were.

Frenemies.

He paused at the thought.

Not enemies? Not exactly, no. She wasn't trying to kill him or cut off his hair or kick his ass. She just...avoided him. When forced to be around him, she was either rude, cold, or antagonistic. What was the saying? Hell had no fury as Jill Valentine betrayed.

He wondered what she'd do if he just shouted- I think I love you, you stupid, stubborn, pain in the ass, woman!

Nothing, likely. Any woman he'd loved in his whole life had pretty much used or abandoned him. So it didn't take a shrink to explain why he was drawn to all the wrong ones. George came by the apartment for visits with her now and Sherry's doctor Hannah when Jill was in need of therapy.

One day, Hannah inquired, "The spankings have stopped."

He had no idea what was on his face but it must have been pathetic because the doctor had touched his arm and told him, "Just because she's angry, Director, doesn't mean she's gone. She let you in far enough to feel betrayed by your actions and she's panicking. For the first time, she doesn't want to run. She just wants to sulk and slap at you to feel better about her own feelings. It sounds strange to hear it, but that's not a bad thing. I'm going to caution you to set limits for her. Don't let your guilt get in the way of what you'd set out to do here. She seems better, and she is, but she's still fragile. Let her rage, but don't let her take you down with her either."

Again, he got the impression the good doctor was telling him to keep on spanking Jill Valentine.

As he was leaving the pool room, Jill shouted, "Where ya going? Go somebody upstairs waiting to be held against their will?"

Leon sighed. He said nothing. He just kept on walking. He knew what it was without turning around. They were trapped together in this apartment now and there was no shiver of something wonderful under the surface, just the sour stench of what might have been.

He was stifling under her rage. He just needed a break.

So he called up Claire, put her in charge of Jill while she swam, and left.

The second he was out in the cold, his heart slowed down. He inhaled the fresh air and turned right on into the first bar he came across. He'd wanted to drink himself stupid the last few months but Jill just kept getting rid of his liquor.

She dumped it off the balcony. She poured it down the toilet. Once, she'd dumped it all over him while he slept. She threw his bottles at him, she taunted him, she tossed his cigarettes into the trash and dumped urine on them.

She was just a bitch.

A hateful, spiteful, horrible witch of a woman who'd come into his life and cast a spell and possessed him with her stupid need and her sweet awakening and her skin. A brutal kick in the balls to realize he'd liked it. He'd liked her needing him. He'd felt, for the first time, not like a guy who just ran in to save a village - but a man who'd saved a single life. Just one. Hers. She'd knelt on a roof once and he'd called her back.

He'd kept pulling her further from it and now she was...

His thoughts trailed off as he tossed back another shot of whiskey.

She was what? She wasn't in a place where she needed him anymore. He could have let her go. He _should _have let her go, but the constant fear she'd regress or breakdown or that someone would try again to kill her...it terrified him.

He couldn't protect her if he didn't have her close.

He took a cigarette from his pack and poked it between his lips. The lighter in his hand was as big of a bitch as Jill and simply denied him the fire to light it. Angry, he smacked it on the bar.

There was a snap of sound and a lit pack of matches slid down the bar to him. He picked it up and lit his cigarette tip as he turned to see who his savior was.

Ada Wong.

Another bitch who'd been playing him most of his life.

He laughed, dryly, and she smiled in the red, red, red coat she wore. She looked somehow like a femme-fatale in the smoky dark bar. "Penny for your thoughts, handsome."

"Please...Ada...you don't need to pay for it. You'll just knock me out and take it for free."

She joined him at the long mahogany surface and tapped her finger on the reflective wood. A glass of wine was placed in front of her - red- like her lips. Red - like her coat. Red - like the lies she'd been telling for so long he'd finally given up on trying to see beneath the blood to the heart of it.

"Where's your bitch?"

Leon smirked, "Beside me...where's yours?"

"You're wearing his coat."

They both eyed each other and smirked.

She touched his wrist below the sleeve of his heavy leather bomber jacket. "Good to see you, Leon. Have you missed me?"

"Like a case of crabs after college, sweetheart. Sadly, there's no cure for what you leave behind."

He couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. This was the story of his life. Forget the Jill sandwich, he thought with a painfully sarcastic scoff, he was the Kennedy one. Trapped between two bitches who simultaneously hated his guts and cast him aside when he didn't live up to their expectations.

Why couldn't he have just been gay and saved himself the trouble?

Who was he kidding? He'd need balls to be a man anyway. These two women had come on in and cut his off. Ada kept one in a trophy case and Jill had tossed the other over his balcony or pissed all over it. So, what difference did it make what team he played for?

As if reading his mind, Ada cooed, "Please...you wouldn't ever tie yourself to a simple girl, Leon. It's not in your nature. You crave the danger." She leaned close to put her lips beside his ear, "You would mourn me if I was gone."

His gaze turned to her face. She took the cigarette from lips and inhaled on it. He watched her, curious, and she leaned back to press their mouths together. He didn't kiss her back, but he didn't stop her either. The smoke mingled between their faces as she leaned back, eyes limpid and damning.

He swayed on the seat, just drunk enough to enjoy the game of it. "What do you want, Ada?"

Her hand skimmed up his thigh, "A funny thing you should ask, Leon. Where's the phone you took off Fiala Belkin?"

Leon rolled his eyes. "Up your ass, Ada. What makes you think I'll tell you anything?"

She pressed her lips against the side of his mouth and purred, "Because...I just might let you up mine if you do."

He turned his head. Her lips slid against his. He arched a brow at her, "Honey, I'm pretty sure my dick would cut lopped off before it even that close."

Ada fairly sparkled with pleasure and sly intrigue, "Hmm. Want to find out?"

Goddamn tease. She always had been. Why did he bother with her?! For the life of him, he couldn't figure it out. She was so beautiful, there was no getting around that. But so was a white tiger and he wasn't stupid enough to try to pet one of those either. Besides, he'd already had her.

Twice.

It made him snort. Right. Who was he kidding? She'd had him.

"Show me your moves, Mr. Kennedy. They say you're quite...agile these days. You should demonstrate for me."

Leon scoffed, shaking his head, "...I ain't that drunk, sweetheart."

And she answered, "No? The nights still young. Think you can keep up?"

She ordered another round. He laughed. Why not? What was he going home to? Besides, he'd never get drunk enough to give her what she wanted. She'd been trying for years to use her pussy to get him to talk. Mostly, she just fucked with him and took it while he slept.

In fairness, usually, she traded back something for the effort.

So he tapped his glass to hers and shrugged, "Bottoms up, doll face, let's see what you got."

She kept one hand on his thigh. He didn't take it off.

Yeah, he thought, he was a fucking idiot.

* * *

He stumbled into his apartment at the crack of dawn.

He dumped his coat on the floor and staggered in the dark to the living room.

Claire was sound asleep on the couch so he woke her gently to let her leave and weaved drunkenly into the library to plop down on a sofa chair there. His head was swirling. His eyes were gritty. He was trying to imagine a world that wasn't spinning when a voice grated at him, "...have fun?"

He opened one bleary eye to find Jill with her arms crossed looking at him in the semi-darkness. He shrugged, "You care? Go back to bed."

Jill tapped her toe on the floor. She was in her constant torture wear, a tank top, and panties. Her breasts pressed against the thin fabric. He could almost make out her nipples in the moonlight.

Angry, he sat up with a grunt and barked, "What?! What do you want?"

Jill gave him a dirty look, "You stink. You know that. You smell like her."

Now he laughed, bitterly, "Who?"

"Whoever she was. You stink like cheap whore. Was she good?"

He swayed a little. His head turned and looked at the floor and the walls and the ceiling. He glanced around him until Jill snapped, "What the hell are you looking for?"

"Oh, I'm looking for your business...turns out? None of that is over here."

She gave him a wilting look. "You disgust me."

Leon snorted and shrugged, "Good to know. Anything else?"

She shook her head, "I hate you."

He laughed and leaned back in the chair, "You've made that clear too, kiddo. What else ya got?"

She felt the shiver of pain over it and asked, angrily, "You fuck her?"

Leon scoffed. He snorted and slurred, "You care? You drew the line in the sand, sweetheart, don't get pissed when I cross it."

She really, really, really hated the tears that popped in her eyes as she told him, "Let me go. For god's sake, go tomorrow and tell them you lied. Tell them I'm fine and I'm good and set me _free_."

He shook his head, "Can't do it. They don't believe me anyway. They think you're a traitor, Jill. They think you did it because you're a sick bitch with a twisted soul. Nothing I say matters. You ever think maybe they're right?"

Her hurt and jealousy snapped hard into anger that was thick and dark. "...what the hell did you say?"

"You heard me." He pushed out of the chair and swayed. He stuck a finger into her chest and spat, "You like being his whore, Jill? Maybe that's why you've been so hateful. Maybe you liked being mine too."

She slapped him. It echoed. It was a good one. It hurt. He staggered and she spit at him, "You fucking disgrace. You drunk. I'm not the whore here. I never was. You are. Was she good, Kennedy?"

He laughed, stumbling, "Not like you, honey. Nobody will ever be as good as you." He rubbed his jaw. He hated that she could hit like that. Jesus, she was strong. He hated that he felt like he kind of deserved it.

Her heart seized. She shivered, "Say it again, you son of a bitch."

"Somebody trained you real good, princess. You probably played me from the beginning. You sure liked it when I finally gave you the fucking you'd been asking for. And you were worth it...good _god_ you were worth it. Best I ever had. Hands down."

He was a hateful drunk. He knew just how to push her buttons and wound her. So she laughed, shaking with rage, "You liar. You stupid, self-hating, disgusting liar. We both know how you feel about me. We both know you went out tonight to hurt me and yourself for it. What's gotta suck the most? I _am_ the best you ever had because I was probably the first one to ever give a shit about you. You_ disgrace_."

His hand snapped out and grabbed her ponytail. He jerked her in and had her gasping as he spat, "Call me a disgrace one more goddamn time, you bitch. Tell me it wasn't the same for you. Tell me you didn't use me and then kick me to the curb the second I failed your ideals. Tell me you didn't give up on me because I was too afraid to let you go. Go ahead. Say it out loud. Tell me you didn't love me, Jill. Just once...and I'll let you go."

Her breath caught as he snapped, "I'll go down there and convince them. I'll secure your release and get you transferred to minimum security holding until your innocence is proven. Tell me you don't want me. Say it and you never have to see me again."

Her breath hitched. God the silence was something. It made his heart race.

Because she didn't say it.

He laughed, harshly, "Yeah? Who's the disgrace, sweetheart? Judge yourself."

She trembled where he held her, "...did you fuck her?" She whispered it. It made them both pant a little. Her voice broke and pissed her off.

He wanted to lie. He wanted to hurt her. He'd lied enough for both of them. Drunk or not, he was done lying to her.

Leon jerked on her hair again while she gasped. Through his teeth, he confessed, "No? Okay? No...I could have. She tried...but I didn't fuck her."

Jill made a small sound of pain, "...why?"

He fisted her hair, she whimpered, and he growled, "You fucking know why, Jill. You know why."

And he tossed her away.

She stumbled. He swayed. She taunted, "You are such a cuck. You know any other way but to live your life under a woman's thumb?"

The anger was so sharp it hurt as he returned, "I guess some of us just like being slaves. Isn't that right, princess?"

She shoved him hard enough he nearly went over into the bookshelf. "..go fuck yourself, you pathetic jerk."

His hand snatched her hair again. She cried out and swung her other hand up, but drunk or not, he just wasn't that guy. He caught her hand, he dragged her forward and threw her over his lap. She shouted in rage as he grabbed her chin in one hand and jerked her panties down with the other.

She didn't say stop. She shouted in rage, but she didn't try to fight her way off his lap either. They both knew it.

He brought his hand down on her ass while she cried out. She jerked and trembled, her perfect ass pinked with it, and they both were vibrating with so many things that it was like drowning in emotion.

If she'd told him to stop, even once, he'd have done it. But she didn't want him to stop. She didn't want him to ever stop. She hated him and herself and this, all of it... because she didn't hate it at all.

She _hated _the jealousy in her over whatever woman had spent the evening trying to touch him. She didn't want anyone else to even look at him. She didn't want to be the woman who felt that way.

She shouted, voice cracking, "I _hate _you!"

It made her heart hurt because for the first time ever, he shouted back, "Ditto, kiddo."

"Then let me _GO!"_

She gasped and moaned and humped against his lap. She demanded he let her go. She was a fucking mess. He abruptly dumped her to the floor. "So _GO!" _Jesus that shouting of his. It shook the fucking rafters. She trembled on the floor at his feet. "Go! You bitch! Who's stopping you!? Get the hell outta here."

"Take off the collar and I will!"

He grabbed the collar and jerked her toward him. She gasped and he seethed, "I _can't. _You're stuck with me. So go cry in your room and leave me to hate you."

He tossed her away.

The moment was ripe and painful. She didn't run. She sat on the floor with her panties around her knees panting. He stared at the ceiling, swaying, and trying to calm down. He was so close to doing something stupid here.

It was the only time in his life he'd ever wanted to get away before he did something he couldn't take back.

And so it was much quieter when he finally urged, "...please. Just go, Jill. Ok? I can't do this now. Just..."

He shifted in the chair to stand. She gripped his calves and leaned in. Her head laid gently against his knees. She trembled and whispered, "...where are you going?"

His hands hesitated. What did they want to do...stroke her goddamn hair? Soothe her? What the hell for? This shit was so dysfunctional. Aloud, he laughed harshly, "Jesus...I _am _a fucking cuck. Can I ever pick a woman that isn't a disaster?"

Jill inhaled sharply. "Tell me again you didn't touch her."

He grabbed her face with his hands. Jill whimpered softly and his voice was hard but calm, "I didn't sleep with her. It was the first time I've ever turned her down. I was drunk and I didn't fuck her. So what does that say about me?"

Jill grabbed his wrists, "...I'm sorry."

Softly, with most feeling than he'd ever said anything in his life, he admonished her, "..._fuck _your sorry, Jill."

She pulled him forward and kissed him. Eyes open, they watched each other. She said against his mouth, "...fuck me instead."

Jesus.

It was his night of women trying to kill him, that was for sure. These goddamn creatures would be the reason he leaped off a ledge at some point and plummeted to his death. So he laughed, painfully, "I thought you hate me."

"I do...you stupid son of a bitch. I hate your fucking hair. You emo chic with a dick.

He pushed her to her back on the floor. She shivered and her voice went higher as her panties ripped with a jerk of his hand and she added, "...you fucking cuck. Tell me to kiss your ass."

He grabbed for his zipper, swaying as he kicked her legs apart. "I can't...that's gay, Jill. We talked about this."

Jill grabbed his pants and pulled him down to his knees between her legs. She slapped his hand away while he fumbled at his pants and rolled her eyes, "You drunk. Can't even pull your dick out. You sure you can fuck me?"

"Let's find out."

"You liar...I've seen you move drunk. I know what you can do."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Shut up and do it."

Women.

The zipper came down and she jerked, pulling his pants around his knees. He laughed, swaying above her, "This is romantic as hell, right? You want me to recite a poem while we do it?"

Her eyes sparkled in the dark. She hooked her ankles around his ass to spill him against her. Her hand moved down, fisted around him, and guided him into her as she told him, "I don't care what you say...just say it while you fuck me."

"...bossy bitch. Beg for it."

"Please...you stupid cuck."

He shoved into her so hard her teeth clacked together. Her hands shot up to brace against the wall to make sure he didn't drive her head through the sheetrock. Her feet hit the floor to try to brace herself against the assault of it.

She didn't think he'd ever, not once, hammered into her so hard it echoed. It felt like he was thrusting against the sucking walls of her body into her belly. Her hand came down and slapped his ass so hard he grunted.

His teeth flashed in the dark, "Bitch! Who's the cuck now?"

And Jill laughed. She laughed desperately and it ended on a gasping cry as he plowed her as he'd kill her.

The top of her head started bumping the wall and she shouted, "Faster...you fucking pansy!"

His pants clinked. His boots scuffed the floor. His jeans started ringing as his phone went off. He grunted, sweating on her while he grabbed her throat to pin her to the floor, "...sounds like a goddamn bell to start a race..."

He was hoarse and low when he talked. Jill laughed again, whining a little, and grabbed his ass, "So, finish first you slow bastard."

"Yeah? Only one of us is an old nag."

Her laughter was high and breathy. It was great. She leaned her mouth up to bite at his mouth. He grinned and killed himself fucking her. It was ok, he was ready to die. When she hit the wall again, his arm looped around her belly to sling her face down on the chair. He rose to his knee and gave it to her from behind. It was easy to find her in the dark, she was slick and wet and ready for him.

Her hips bucked back. She grabbed his hips over her own from behind and put her weight on the chair. A position of submission like that spoke volumes about how far she'd come since meeting him.

When she clenched around him on warbling cry, he jerked her hips up and shoved her face down to finish in her. Her hungry body liked him bathing her insides with his seed, clearly, as she keened and shoved back on him as he came.

His phone went off again as he grabbed her ponytail and turned her head to the side to tell her, "...I hate you."

Her eyes sparkled, "Yeah? Ditto, kiddo. Get off me."

Leon shoved back from her and she collapsed on the floor on her face. He slapped her ass so hard it echoed as he rose and finally answered his phone. There he was, he thought, just standing there with his damn pants around his ankles and his wet dick pointing up like he hadn't just shot a load through it into his...whatever she was. It was certainly classy.

Even his mind snickered at the sarcasm. He dipped to pull his pants up while Hunnigan's voice droned in his ear.

Voice rough, he demanded, "What?"

Jill poked her butt up in the air as she started to get up and had his brains scrambling. He finally turned away from her to clear his head and listen. "No...Ingrid, I'm not on field duty. You know that."

He paused, listening, and tapped a finger against his thigh. "...I don't know anyone who goes by Scarecrow."

Jill cocked her head at him as she crossed around in the dark and he zipped up his pants. It was a tragedy and a shame about the fact that her tank top covered just enough of her bottom to leave just the suggestion of it showing. His brow furrowed but he finally grumbled, "...fine. No, it's fine. I can get someone to stay with her. Yeah. Ok. Sure."

He clicked off the call and Jill queried, "...what's this? Where are you going?"

Leon crossed out of the library, heading into the kitchen to down some water and Ibuprofen. "The Eastern Slav Republic."

She froze, "...what?"

"They need me to meet a contact there."

"Whose contact?"

He glanced over his shoulder and shrugged, "I don't know, but the intel suggested I should. It coordinates with what we were able to pull off Belkin's phone. It could be a chance to put the screws to whoever is backdoor dealing BOWS there. So that means I need to go."

"What about me?"

"You get to wait here." He crossed passed her and she grabbed his arm. His brows shot up.

"Take me with you."

Without missing a beat, he laughed, "No." He shook his arm free.

She gripped the back of his shirt and held on, halting him from heading off. "I mean it, Kennedy. Take me with you. I'm ready. I can do it. I won't let you down."

He gave her a narrow look. She shook her head, "All of this shit with us aside. I can _do _this. You want to make it up to me for keeping me here? _Take me with you_."

She saw he was leaning toward the yes so she added, "I got your back during the ambush right? I'm good. You know that. And what if someone tries to get me again while you're gone? Who will protect me?"

She batted her lashes at him.

His mouth twitched in a smile. Finally, he gave her a steely look, "Fine."

Her excitement was short-lived as he told her, "You do not, ever, leave my side, Jill. If I die, this collar will take you down. So you better make sure my ass is as precious as yours."

Jill gave him a long look before she said, "I'm fond of it...sometimes."

He rolled his eyes, "I thought you hated me."

She poked him in the chest as she passed, "I do. Doesn't mean I want you dead. When do we go?"

"It'll take a few days or so to get clearance to cross Russian airspace. After that, they'll drop us outside the border near Edonia. Are you sure Jill? Be sure. We'll have to parachute in and hoof it on foot. It won't be easy."

She grinned, "Oh god...you promise? I'm so fucking sick of easy." Her lip rolled under, "...sometimes I like it hard. I guess I have you to thank for that, huh?"

She turned and hurried into her room.

He blinked and had to laugh.

He had absolutely no idea where they were now. Hating each other? Healing? Hard-up and wasting time tracking down weird tips when they could be here fixing this? Why did he care?! He should get rid of her as she wanted. She was trouble. She was going to get him killed or kill him herself or kill him with that ass in those stupid white panties. Why wasn't a drunken fuck on the floor ever easy for him?

She was singing happily in her room. She was excited to go kill shit. He kinda was too but that's usually because he had nothing outside of the fight. With her here, he'd started to question if maybe life was better behind the desk he'd been avoiding for years. Leon swayed drunkenly and slapped his own face twice to stay alert. Great. Pulled off his own furlough in a way and shoveled into the ESR. Should be a superb time to enter a messy country in the middle of an ugly civil war suspected of selling BOWS...right? Just fun that never ended. Even his thoughts dripped ire.

Although who was he kidding? It gave him an excuse to avoid the Senator for the holidays.

Even if he faced a hundred tyrants barehanded, Christmas at Kennedy's would have been so much worse.


	19. No Hope: Part 2: Chap1

**A/N: **_Off we go onto the next phase. Part Two is about the impact of Jill and Leon's relationship on the world around them. This part will cover Damnation and parts of 6 as well as what comes after._

_There will be some canon divergence and some character death, so prepare yourself accordingly. It's all in service to the excellent end I have planned for them both. Thank you again, for all your encouragement!_

* * *

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Two:**

**-Where the Wild Things Are-**

* * *

**Chapter One: The Bitch in Red**

* * *

**Winter**

**-December 25th, 2011-**

* * *

The joy of waking to a phone call from the new President of the United States was how he found himself aware the next morning. Adam had been elected in November in a landslide victory against an opponent with little to no real agenda. He'd taken the Senator with him, of course, as promised. So that meant?

John Kennedy was now the Vice President-elect. His asshole father was the second most powerful man in the world. It was depressing.

It might have bothered him more if everyone wasn't so happy to speak to him. Helen regaled him with stories, Megan chattered his ears off about the White House- like he didn't already know- and Ronnie was quick to inform him that it wouldn't be long before they had Leon shifted to permanent duty as Adam's protective detail. Adam was less concerned with politics and wanted to know how he was doing "up there in that goliath of steel and sadness". He lied. He said he was great.

He wasn't...but he was trying.

It was the strangest Christmas morning he'd likely ever had.

Leon emerged into the kitchen to find Jill cooking. When she spotted him, she gushed, "I could _hardly _sleep. This is incredible right? Get outta this place for a while...get some answers. What's the likelihood that anything related to my imprisonment might be there?"

He shook his head as she set a couple of pieces of bacon onto a cast-iron skillet. The instant smell of sizzling pork was incredible. He inhaled and sighed with hunger. "Don't get your hopes up, kid, seriously. It's more likely Belkin was using Irving to deal dirty there and simply make money. As weird as it sounds, not everything can be tied to Albert Wesker. That place is a mess, Jill. So lower your expectations for what you think is waiting."

Jill frowned as she finished washing her hands and turned toward him. He sipped a cup of coffee with a happy sound. "...how's the hangover?"

His smirk was tired, "Better now. I like finding a woman in the kitchen cooking when I wake up."

Jill gave him a wilting look. "You a misogynist at the core, Kennedy?"

"Aren't we all?" He winked and leered at her as she rolled her eyes and turned away, "It snowed last night too. Look at the beautiful white all over your balcony. Gorgeous. Maybe we could take a wa-"

His arms slid around her from behind. Her breath caught. His mouth dropped and pressed a kiss to the place where her neck and shoulder met. "Merry Christmas, Jill."

She'd forgotten. Of course, she had. Why did it matter to her? They'd been so hateful to each other. They'd been so miserable. She hadn't once thought about Christmas at all. Hell, this morning was the first time since September they'd even been pleasant to each other.

As she turned, she caught sight of the wrapped box on the table. Pretty bow, pretty green and red shiny paper. Her heart just...well...it seized so hard she was speechless. She shook her head and finally wondered, "...what did you _do_?!"

Leon laughed and let go of her. He shrugged a shoulder, "I got you a gift. Why do you look so shocked?"

"Because we hate each other."

She didn't see his jaw flex as she stared at the box on the table. He corrected, "No. _You _hate _me. _I've never hated you, Jill."

She rolled her lips and chewed the bottom one before she returned, "...what is it?"

She didn't deny the hating. Had he thought she might? Bristling with irritation, he grunted, "Open it and see. That's the damn point of the gift."

He had thought buying her a gift might buy her affection? Ok. Yes. Maybe he had. It was stupid, but girls liked gifts and he had plenty of money. So that was nothing to him. As Jill picked up the little card and opened it, he watched her face soften.

Even her anger could be quelled with a kind gesture apparently. She lifted the lid on the package and froze. It wasn't earrings. It wasn't a nice scarf. It wasn't anything girly at all. It was a gun.

A beautiful, wonderful, brilliant gun. A Ruger LC9 9mm with the grips done in steely blue. Her hand trembled as she picked up the little compact and he muttered, "I figured you'd need something on you in the ESR. My ass is only as good as my partner, or so they say. If you think it's too smal-"

She gushed, eyes filling, "Shut up...it's _perfect."_

He smiled around another sip of coffee, "There's more. Move the case for the gun."

She did, brows knitting on the manilla envelope there. She gave him a questioning look and he remarked, "Paperwork for the vineyard, signed, sealed, delivered. I had men out there over the summer to fix the house up after the ambush and start reseeding the fields on the Westside. I'm hoping, with good weather, you might see some real production by late summer this coming year."

Jill said nothing, staring at the gun and the folder on the table in silence as he went on, "I'm your silent partner, Jill. I don't want any recognition for anything. You brand and market it under the Wolf Hollow name and I'll bankroll any improvements until you're on your feet financially. Anything you borrow against me comes back in equity off the business, or as payment on a loan. However, you're comfortable."

Her silence was starting to unnerve him so he cleared his throat, "We can have lawyers iron it out if you wan-"

Her hand lifted again and she told him, "I said shut up."

So, he did and sipped his coffee. She gathered herself and turned toward him. Her hand lifted to lay flat against his chest and she said, "I don't know how to say thank you. It's not something I'm very good at. I'm sure, someone somewhere has a way of doing it and making it show just how grateful they are, but I'm not them. Thank you for this. And for the belief, I'm sure it took for you to do both. Tell me when you started to believe in me."

His gaze held hers and he answered, "I had your records sent over when I started to think you'd been used. I dug through everything I could find on you, on Wesker, on Redfield and your time in S.T.A.R.S. I pieced together enough to know that Wesker likely wanted you to be the fall guy for his operation if anything ever happened to him. He used you, broke you, and put in you place to be tortured by being a prisoner for the rest of your life because of it. I don't have to be convinced to believe you, Jill, I have for a long time."

Her mouth trembled, "Why didn't you _ever_ say so?"

"I guess I'm still waiting for _you _to believe in _me."_

Her fingers fisted into his shirt and Jill's voice shivered, "Why did you lie in those reports in you believed in me?"

He said nothing. She shook him a lot, "Kennedy...why did you lie? Why?"

Calmly, he explained, "It's Leon. My name? It's _Leon. _Kennedy? He's a guy that nobody really knows. He's a bad ass, right? An agent. A guy with the right moves and the right words and the right skills. He's nothing but a job, Jill. A job. That's it. I do what I can, where I can and save who I can. It's what I do. It's not who I am. The only person in the world who cares about Leon? I'm pretty sure she's standing in this kitchen with me."

Jill shifted until her other hand touched his face, tremulously, "...why didn't you just say that? Why lie?"

He looked so sad. It made her ache a little as he confessed, "I didn't want to go back to being Kennedy. I thought...maybe I could keep you and keep on being Leon."

Jill smiled at him gently, "Kennedy pulled me back form the ledge...he's ok. I think you should like him a little more." Her eyes sparkled, "I hate him...but I like his ass."

Leon caught her arm and tugged. She came in against him. He wrapped her close and her arms looped at his waist. Her face buried in his chest as he urged, "...so maybe you forgive him and he can go back to being Leon."

She started to respond and a voice did it for her, "Well, isn't this a touching holiday scene."

Jill grabbed for the gun on the table and sighted down her arm fluidly. Leon didn't even lower his coffee as he told her, "It's not loaded, sweetheart."

To which Jill grumped, "Didn't trust me _that_ much, huh hero?"

"You said you hated me, I was just covering my own ass."

Jill snorted.

He lifted his mouth in a half-smile and shrugged as he greeted, "Ada. Out early today to spread holiday misery? You and Santa wear the same colors. Sadly, I think you take the toys from the children he brings them to and break them."

"I do so enjoy taking toys from others...for instance," She was in a beautiful fur coat in fox red. She had black leather gloves on her long fingers and a wicked smile on her beautiful face, "Did you tell yours about our night together?"

Leon stiffened, Jill felt her smile wilt. She lowered the empty gun to the table again. "...what did you say?"

Ada grinned, "Oh, this is priceless. I'd come to talk about Fiala Belkin and that little phone you've been keeping hidden from me, Leon, but this is soooo much better. You didn't tell her about me."

He said nothing.

Jill felt her blood chill as she turned to look at him over her shoulder, "...what is she talking about?"

Jill thought, he didn't need to speak, his face said it all. She felt her teeth clench. "Where were you last night?"

He said nothing.

Ada cooed, "You know that. You know where he was. Did he come from my bed to yours? Did he smell of me? Did he love you with me all over him? It wouldn't be the first time, it won't be the last...Leon does have...hmm...a hunger for me. I do try to keep him sated, but he is known for chasing me. Sometimes," She winked, "I let him catch me."

Jill felt her hands roll into fists. She felt her back stiffen. Leon finally spoke, quietly, "She's lying."

There was nothing in his voice. It wasn't anger. It wasn't desperation. It was nothing. Like it was a fact. It was the truth. He held Jill's gaze and said it again, "She's lying to you."

Ada laughed, delicately, "Am I? Tell her about our time together. Tell her about how it was me who kissed you in Raccoon City...but it was _you _who found me after your time playing hero in Spain. Tell her how you laid on me as the sun rose and asked me to be yours. He was so eager and sweet. Like a virgin. Such a gentle lover. He likes to look at you when he's inside you, doesn't he?"

Jill couldn't look away from him. His face shifted from calm to resolute, but he gave it his best shot, "I was young...and stupid. I'd just survived the second-longest two days of my life. I had Ashley groping me on the damn jetski...I didn't want to touch her. I didn't want to go find some random woman in a bar and stick her on my dick to relieve the pressure...so I went to the one person I knew wouldn't ask me for anything more."

Jill felt an arrow of pain in her chest, "You ask her to stay with you? You ask a _spy _to stay with you _after _she robbed you of the sample? I read your report, remember? You don't name her. You call her - the foreign operative. You don't mention that she was your goddamn lover."

His resolute face turned a little desperate, "I was stupid, Jill. Stupid. Remember? She never wanted me to stay. Ever. She never wanted that. It was easier to chase her than to stop and find something real. I was stupid...but I'm not anymore. I haven't been like that with her in years. I swear."

Ada purred, "No? Tell her you weren't with me last night, handsome. Make her believe it."

Ada hoisted herself onto the counter to watch the show she'd created. The drama, the pain, the power of it was monstrous. She licked her lips in anticipation. It was good, all of it, getting rid of his bitch was how she kept control of him. This was the _perfect _solution.

Leon spoke again in a tone that was almost pleading, "Ok. I was with her. That's true."

Jill moved away from him and he grabbed her arm, "But not the rest. I didn't touch her."

Ada laughed musically, "Liar. Tell the truth, you boy scout, go on. Tell her."

He tried again, "Ok. I touched her, but I didn't fuck her." He was just burying himself here. He knew that. He was panicking a little bit.

Ada scoffed, "Who's the liar now, darling?"

With a snap of anger, he pointed at Ada while still looking at Jill, "Shut up, you bitch, and go. You've made your mess for the morning."

Ada grinned again, "Oh, I'll stay. I want to see the show."

Jill wouldn't even look at him. He gripped her arm above the elbow and implored, "I didn't fuck her. I didn't. Look at me."

She didn't. His jaw flexed. His teeth gritted, "_Look _at me."

Jill shook her head. She felt tears spark and hated them, hated him, and hated Ada Wong for making her acknowledge her own feelings. She loved him. She hated him. She wanted him. She didn't want to live with the shadow of that viperous bitch over them.

Whatever else was true? Ada Wong was the person he'd run to last night. When he was angry, he'd fuck a snake. The pain of it had Jill speaking low and cold, "You sleep with her to hurt me?"

His voice rolled with anger and made her shiver, "I _didn't _sleep with her. She's lying. You don't believe me?"

Jill shook her head, "No. You lie. It's what you do. Let go of me. We're done here."

His fingers tightened and made her tremble, "So that's it? I believe in you and you...you believe her over me? Just like that?"

Ada added fuel to the fire, "He has the _cutest _little birthmark above his butt, doesn't he? Looks a bit like Italy. We met there once, he and I, had a lovely night together in Venice. Romantic. Surely. He fucked me then like he'd own me. Vigorous. Asked me to marry him on a gondola at sunset. Last night though? I noticed he was more...desperate than I remembered. He couldn't even wait to get inside me. He ripped my poor panties with his need."

Jill felt the tears turn her eyes wet. Ada smiled happily, "Oh...oh oh oh...I see you know what I mean. He rip yours last night, darling? He is enthusastic...this toy of ours."

It was the first time he'd ever pictured himself putting his hands around Ada's throat and choking the life out of her. She was such a shit disturber, she was just stirring the pot to show him she could. He snapped at her, "Shut up, Ada. Now."

Ada laughed musically.

He shook his head again, "She's lying. Jill."

Jill shook her head, "Yeah?"

"Yes. I swear."

Jill looked at him with such anger on her it radiated, "You do."

"What?"

"You do have a birthmark above your ass...you fucking bastard." She jerked her arm free and he let her.

Ada slid off the counter, "Well...I think my work here is done. Leon? The phone? And I'll be on my way."

Leon laughed, harshly, "Get out, Ada. You've got all you're ever gonna get out of me. You're lucky I don't give you a bullet between the eyes instead."

She shrugged and almost skipped to the balcony, "No worries, I'll get it eventually. Maybe you can bring it to the ESR. I hear you're taking a trip soon? I'll be seeing you there I'm sure. Leon?"

His jaw flexed and she cooed, "I'm sure you'll miss me. It was nice fucking you. He's a natural blonde, Jill, did you know? I'm glad he's still leaving some hair down there. He was bare like a baby when I first touched him." She winked at them and waggled her fingers, "See you later."

She went to the balcony, hit the trigger on her stupid grapple gun, and was gone like a red bullet of rage into the cool winter sun. She left a mess behind her, as she always did, and a chill that didn't come from the door she'd left open in her wake.

Jill picked up her gun from the table. She considered it and set it back down. Quietly, he told her, "I didn't fuck her."

Her eyes finally snapped up to his, "Yeah? Ever!?"

She didn't need to hear that answer to see it on his face, "It's been almost fifteen years since I met her, Jill...it's happened once or twice."

She scoffed, eyes flashing, "It happened? Fucking a spy? A traitor? A goddamn fraud? She's a ghost, you blithering idiot, she's a fake. A phony. A liar of the first water. She'd played you, used you, and done nothing but manipulate and control you. Surely you see it. You see it right?"

He almost shouted it, "So what!? Who gives a shit!? Does it matter before now? Does it? It's over. It's done. I didn't fucking touch her last night."

"...yes you did."

"I didn't do anything more than let her kiss me a few times, Jill. And why not? Don't you get it? I don't have anyone in my life but her...and _you. _And up until last night, I was pretty sure that was done."

Jill turned to leave the kitchen, "Oh, honey, it's _done."_

He blocked her, moving lithely, "Goddammit, stop running and listen to me."

"What can you say?!" She shouted it, "What!? It's done, Leon. It's done. I can forgive the kissing. You aren't mine, not really, so I can forgive it...but _her_?! She's a bad guy. She's going to get you killed or use you to get someone else taken out. She doesn't care about you and never will. How could you climb into bed with that snake? There's probably poison in her pussy...and you just..."

Jill made an obscene gesture to mimic sex, "Because you're a fucking cuck. A stupid son of a bitch who will get himself killed playing games with that bitch. Even if it rots your goddamn dick off to do it. How was it, Leon? Good? You find treason tastes better when it's between her thighs?"

His hand snatched around her throat and made her heart skip a beat. His fingers wrapped around the back of her neck and made her tremble as she told her, "I'll say this once and then _never _again - I haven't fucked her in a long time. Years. I haven't touched anyone but you since _before _you even went missing."

Her silence was loud. The shock on her was echoed in a laugh of anger from him, "Yeah. Cuck? That's right on, honey. Because before I let you use me, I hadn't let anyone in a long damn time. I didn't fuck her last night because the only person I wanted to touch was you. Believe me, don't believe me...the choice is yours. But at some point, you're gonna have to start having some faith in me and figure out that I'm not perfect...but I'm not a piece of shit either. I'm just a guy with _lousy _taste in women."

Oof. Bullseye. What had someone said once? Leon Kennedy _never _misses. They were right about that. He'd let Ada Wong saunter out and put one between Jill's eyes instead to finish her off.

His thumb swept over the caged pulse in her throat. She trembled with anger and invited, "So, get rid of me. Why am I still here if you hate me so much?"

His scoff was painful, "I don't hate you, Jill...you hate me. Maybe you should start asking yourself why. It's probably easier to hate me than it is to believe in me, huh? Get the fuck outta here and leave me alone."

He let her go. He almost tossed her away like she was disgusting to him. Oddly enough, it hurt her feelings. Finally, she spit at him, "She calls you Leon."

His brow knitted and she laughed, harshly, "Yeah. That cunt? She calls you Leon too. So...obviously you're not Kennedy around her either. What kind of fucking hold on you does she have that you can't get rid of her? She's going to you killed, you stupid fool."

Leon scoffed, he laughed with self-deprecation and shrugged, "You care? You'll be free of me then. So what do you care?"

She felt the moment shimmer. When she said nothing he barked, "Take the fucking gun. I bought it for you. If it ever comes close to the back of my head again, I'll use it on your ass until you can't sit down."

He turned back into the kitchen.

"...I don't think I should."

Without looking at her, hands braced on the counter like he was channeling peace from it, he instructed, "Take it, Jill. I mean it. If you don't, I'll toss it over the goddamn balcony."

Jill hesitated. She finally snatched it off the table and left the kitchen.

Was it at all possible that Ada Wong was lying? Was he telling the truth here? Had he been so frustrated he'd let that bitch kiss on him and done nothing? How did she believe him when she _knew _he had lied to her before?

Damnit.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and put her face in her hands.

She'd wanted free of him. She'd wanted gone. This was why. It was exactly what she'd wanted to avoid. She was in love with him. It was handcuffing that never released. It was a kind of prisoner that took you out a window without any rewards. She was a slave again to a man who'd never done anything but try to protect and care for her and she wanted _out._

She didn't want to love him, because it didn't last. It didn't make a difference. It was just one more thing that could destroy you.

She pictured Ada's face as he slid between her legs. She pictured her nails on his back and her mouth on his dick. Jill kicked over the chair to the desk in front of her. It smashed into the wall and she tossed the gun angrily onto the bed behind her.

His face appeared in the doorway as he coldly stated, "You break it, you buy it, sweetheart."

Jesus. Did the same go for hearts?

She spat, "Get out...you cuck."

He flipped her the finger and slammed her door.

Why did she love him!? He was a petulant, stupid, annoying spy fucking, lying cuck.

She caught a glimpse of her face in the glass of the windows around the bed. She'd be dead without him. Here, now, in this moment...she could admit it. She'd come back a shell of what she'd been. She'd just wanted to lay down most days and die. Who he fucked or didn't...it wasn't her business. Because at the end of the day? He'd lied to keep her with him.

Wherever they were, it was someplace messy and real. It was all because he had a stupid, wonderful, adorable birthmark above his fantastic ass. So she barked, "I hope your balls rot off!"

Through the door, he taunted. "Do you? Then how would you stick them in your mouth?!"

"Fuck _off! _You jackass!"

She heard his angry laugh and ground her teeth. She should go out there and kick him a lot until she felt better. She wanted to murder him and Ada Wong where they stood. She wanted to stab that bitch in her betraying cunt until she could take a canon up there.

Jill blinked at the thought. Her mouth twitched. Damnit. She was being stupid and hormonal and acting like a typical spiteful, jealous female. She wasn't. She had never been. She was completely lost at sea here with loving someone like that.

Her mind wondered -what's _that_?

"...perfect." Even saying it out loud made her wince. UGH. He _was. _He was shy and sweet and handsome and rich and kind. He defended her honor against his own goddamn family and refused to let anyone else hurt her. He liked kids and puppies and kicked asses without breaking a sweat. He was a disgusting, horrible, terrible PERFECT man.

He must have heard her say it aloud because he called back, "You rang?"

"I don't know...did I ask for a lying spy fucker!?"

"...could be worse. I could have been trained by a psycho."

Jill gritted her teeth. Douche. It was better to keep hating him. "At least I tried to kill him...what's your excuse!?"

Nothing.

Bullseye, she thought happily, killing blow.

Would he leave her here now? Would he go without her? Hell, who could blame him? It would be an uncomfortable fit for both of them if he chose to let her go along. She didn't care. She wanted to go. Desperately.

She didn't think she could spend more time in this damn apartment thinking about him with Ada Wong on all fours getting filled out like a Christmas goose.

Annoyed, she flopped back on the bed. She _hated _the holidays.

After a small window of silence, she called, "Are you going to punish me or not!?"

To her surprise, he jerked the door open and leered at her, "You want me to toss you over my knees? Is that it?"

Jill gave him the finger now, "No thanks. I'm not in the mood for your spy fucking hands to touch me. You could probably catch Ada and let her do you though since you're her bitch. Asshole- I meant are you gonna leave me here?"

His teeth flashed as anger lanced over his face, "Why? Because you don't like me anymore? That why you threw your legs around me last night, sweetheart, to get me to take you places? You coulda just asked...not that I'm complaining."

Jill gave him a withering glare, "Fuck you."

"...you've done that too, sweetpea. Anything else?"

She spat, "You gonna leave me behind or not, you jackass?"

"You're so congenial...how could I? With that rapier wit and vicious tongue of yours...I would be lost without it."

"I bet Ada would be happy to fill that slot. After all, you filled hers yesterday."

They glared at each other until he finally barked, "FINE! You can go. It's easier than trusting you to stay the fuck here while I'm gone. Maybe you'll get lucky and I'll get gutted and die screaming on the side of the road."

Jill snarled, "If wishes were ponies..."

He snorted, "Please...we both know you don't want me dead. Ada, maybe, but not me."

Jill scoffed, "You got me. If you die, I die, right? So maybe I should keep your spy fucking dick alive after all."

He grinned wolfishly, "God damn...jealousy looks good on you, Valentine. You should wear it more often."

"Don't flatter yourself, _Kennedy." _She flipped him the finger and he snapped the door shut chuckling while she seethed.

She _hated _Leon Kennedy.

True to form...he never missed a shot.


	20. No Hope: Part2: Chap2

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Two:**

**-Where the Wild Things Are-**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Disavowed**

* * *

**Winter**

**-January 1st, 2012-**

**Outside of Holifgrad, Eastern Slav Republic**

* * *

The crackle of the sound cut off and on as the bellow of war incited the masses over a city turned red with blood and lit by the fireworks of battle while gunfire and screaming filled the night. Shadows shifted and slid against cobblestones cracked apart and broken through alleys thick with bodies and swollen with death. The crunch of tanks over bones was not a sound you would ever forget. The smell was acrid and cloying, hitting the nostrils as only petrol could. It left a taste of copper when the cold air delivered a smack of burning hair accompanied by coming rain.

_"Listen to the elders...we have finally gained the power that we need. Power that will lead us to victory! Gather people! Gather now and FIGHT!"_

The roar of a man calling men to battle was somehow lost in the sea of sounds that meant it was too late to rally the people, they were already fighting. In the shadows of a torn apart building that might once have been an apartment complex, Leon loaded a magazine into the assault rifle in his hands.

Quietly, Jill wondered, "...what are they fighting for?"

He snapped the magazine and tugged the gun up, "What?"

"What are they fighting for? I'm a prisoner with limited access to world news, remember?"

They eyed each other in the dark. He grouched, "Civil war. The people are tired of dying for nothing."

Jill shook her head, "We all die for something."

And then he smirked, vibrating with cold anger, "Some of us don't have a choice." He poked his head around the wall and leaned back, "Last chance to change your mind, princess."

Jill rolled her eyes, "You think civil war scares me? I've survived the Redfield's playing Mario Kart. You haven't seen rage until you've seen Chris lose on Rainbow Road."

Leon snorted out a laugh and muttered, "...Rainbow Road...kinda fitting huh?"

Jill gave him a bland look, "Really? Gay jokes?"

He shrugged and leaned back around the wall to look for an opening in the troops and the tanks and the horrid violence. They had to get through there to get to the underground parking garage and meet up with the contact. Honestly, couldn't the guy have gone to a fucking Holiday Inn instead?

So, Leon returned, "You gonna tell me it wasn't him that sent you my reports?"

They held gazes again. He finally nodded, "Yeah. It was him. Why? Why would he do that? What possible good could forwarding those reports to you do besides get us into a civil war of our own?"

Jill shrugged, "Maybe he wanted me to know I was being used."

Oh, it was a nice moment. He leaned away from the wall and turned to face her. His hand, gloved and ready, grabbed her throat and he physically shoved her against the wall. She was in a nice heavy vest strapped with magazines and grenades. He'd insisted she wear the damn thing and left himself vulnerable, even though she'd commented, "If you die, I die right? Shouldn't you be wearing this instead?"

He'd just told her, dead-eyed as can be, "Don't worry about me. I'm bulletproof." Same old joke with none of the humor.

Now he spoke through his teeth, harshly but quietly, "I _never _used you and I've had _enough _of you acting like a victim with me. You could have killed me at any time, Jill. _Any time _you wanted to be free. And you got on my goddamn lap that first time. You. Not me. So _enough _acting like I used you. _Enough _playing the wounded woman. It's _enough. _This place? It's hostile. We have no backup and no way out if we get trapped. It's just you and me. So help me, or shut the fuck up. Do you understand me?"

Her heartbeat wildly looking at him. It was probably the first time she'd ever seen him like this. Angry, so angry, and vibrating with rage in a way she couldn't understand. Who was he mad at? Chris? Her? The world? Himself? Somebody was pissing him off. She as just adding fuel to the fire.

So, she spoke calmly and softly, "...I meant the government."

His jaw flexed, "What?"

"I meant the government was using me...not you. I didn't mean you."

Shit.

He let go of her throat and backed up a step. She stayed very still watching him. Like a lion pacing, before it strikes, she was afraid she'd pushed him too far. He turned away. His hand slid down to his side and rose again to tip that flask he carried to his lips. Liquid courage, it seemed, to keep him steady.

She'd smelled it on him anyway. She knew he'd been drinking before they'd loaded onto the chopper. She was about to go running around a war-torn nightmare with a guy who was probably a little drunk.

Scary.

Unless you'd seem him rise from the couch after a fifth of Jack Daniels and kill three men without blinking. Then? Not so scary.

With his back to her, she tried again, "I'm sorry. You're right, ok? You're right. This isn't the time or the place for us. I won't forget again."

She watched him swallow the rage he wanted to likely spew all over her until they both choked on it. After a long moment, he turned toward her. The look on his face was carefully shut down.

He jerked his head, "Let's go. Stay close and just..." He trailed off. She watched him inhale sharply, "Just fucking listen to me. Just once. Ok?"

His communicator beeped to life and he lifted it. The face of Ingrid Hunnigan filled the small screen. "Leon- you made it."

"If that's your story...we're moving into position."

Hunnigan smiled at him, "Good. I've got a clear bead on you from the sky."

"Yeah? How's my hair look?"

"Perfect as always." She laughed. Jill rolled her eyes where she stood beside him. What the hell was the deal with him and women? They just fawned over him.

"So what's the fastest route to the CIA Drop-Off? I'm starting to chafe in this shitty weather."

"Does it itch?"

He told her, "You wanna scratch it for me?"

Jill felt a strange urge to pluck that stupid communicator from his hand and throw it across the street. She hated like hell caring about him. His flirting annoyed her. She caught a glimpse of Hunnigan as she tilted it.

She looked like a severe angry bitch. Glasses and a snooty expression on a witchy face. Jill was betting she was too uptight to even go to work without pantyhose on. She seemed like a woman who was painfully by the book.

Had Jill been once too? How the world had changed...because of this idiot and his stupid shaggy hair. He hadn't shaved in weeks either so he looked...hairy and ugly. Jill huffed and sighed. He didn't. He went from pretty boy to gruff rebel...each look as wonderfully enticing as the last...the jackass.

Hunnigan chuckled, "I think you misunderstand what a handler is, Agent Kennedy."

He winked at her, "Maybe you should have given me your number back in the day."

Hunnigan started to smile, "You are in-"

Later, he'd think it was stupid to stand still for so long, but he'd let Jill's needling scramble his fucking brains. The heavy artillery by the tank exploding hit the wall beside where they stood. The world flashed white and loud.

Brick and mortar rained down all over them.

When the dust had settled, Hunnigan was shouting, "Leon! Leon, my god! Are you alright!?"

And he was smashing Jill into the wall and covering her with his body. Jill wondered if he realized he was still pressed against her as the seconds ticked off. Finally, she murmured, "Are you ok?"

He didn't answer, but she hadn't really thought he would anyway.

She stared at his face from inches away as he answered Hunnigan's distressed beckoning, "We're fine. We're good. They're just doing some late night renovations down here, I guess."

"Leon...listen carefully. Simmons has just aborted the mission."

His brows flew up. Jill watched the anger streak across his face. He leaned away from her and barked, "What!? You fucking kidding me!? You pulled me specifically for this. You made sure I knew it was me or no one. Something here stinks, Hunnigan. We've got confirmation of B.O.W.s. sold as weapons. I'm not leaving until I have answers."

Hunnigan looked severe, "The U.S. has cut ties with the ESR, Leon. You have no choice. You are ordered to evacuate along with embassy and any remaining American personnel."

His fist clenched, opened, and punched the wall he faced twice in frustration. "Listen to me, Ingrid, if I turn back now...this shit is going to spread. It's the start of something bigger than anything we've come up against before. If they can market the goddamn things, there's no stopping them from taking down cities and countries with swarms of monsters made into weapons. Do you want to be responsible for that kind of thing? I don't think I could sleep at night if I let that happen."

Hunnigan looked at him sadly, "You have no choice, Leon. It's a direct order. You have to obey."

"Do I? Last time I checked, I had the ability to make my own goddamn decisions."

She looked at him pleadingly, "You know what happens if you do that. You know. They will disavow you. They will cut you off. You'll be on your own out there. Please...I 'm begging you, even you have limits. Leon, they could go so far as to revoke your citizenship."

He glanced at Jill. She held his gaze steadily and finally? She nodded at him.

So he said, "Fuck it. Take it. I work better alone anyway."

Hunnigan looked stricken, "Leon-"

He signed off and pocketed the communicator.

Softly, Jill laughed dryly, "...shit. The traitor and the ghost. What a pair we are. No country. No friends. No back up...happy New Year."

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Simmons, that rat-faced ass wipe, had likely known this would happen. He'd probably wanted it to. He'd just gotten rid of the biggest thorn in his side in a completely legal way. He might be a weasel, but apparently he wasn't a complete idiot.

Leon's gaze swept over the mess of a city lost and hopeless to the face of a woman who'd survived the same once upon a time. They'd both been here before, cut off, alone and left to their own devices to survive.

Jill studied him and for the first time in a long time, all that was on her face was calm acceptance. Apparently, all it took to get her to believe in him was flushing his career and his whole life down the drain. "Tell me if you want to turn back, and we will."

Leon shook his head, "I meant what I said. I couldn't live with myself if I just walked away now."

Playing Devil's advocate, Jill remarked, "You don't know these people. They've created a war among themselves. No one, anywhere, would blame you for letting them finish each other off and coming in to clean up the leftovers."

Again, her face was so calm. It reassured him somehow to know she wasn't judging him, she was just throwing it out there. Leon nodded and rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension, "_I _would. I would blame myself. Sometimes you just gotta do what you think is right, Jill, even if it costs you almost everything."

She studied him in the smoky dark and tried once more, "It's suicide to go in there. You know that. What good could it possibly do?"

He shot a hand back through his hair to push it off his face and told her, "There might be kids in there. Without parents. Dying and wounded and scared. These people don't take that into account when they start fighting for a chunk of land, Jill. They just start dealing with things they can't control. I can't, I can_not._..just stand here and let them use B.O.W.S. to slaughter innocent people. Not if I can do anything at all to stop that from happening."

Her eyes tracked back and forth across his face. He turned his from the alleyway in front of them to her. After a moment, he wondered, "What?"

"Just trying to figure out how you turned out like that."

His brow arched, "How's that?"

"...noble." When he scoffed, she shook her head, "Stop it. I mean it. It couldn't be your father, you know he doesn't have a noble bone in his body. I know you didn't get a hug and a gold card to the secret agents club either...the stuff you've seen and done and walked away from...how are you still so noble?"

Without missing a beat, he shrugged and scanned the alley again, "Better than being a douchebag, right?"

Jill sounded bewildered, "What if there's no one to save here? Is it worth your own life to try?"

He met her gaze, "If I save one, even a single person...it's worth it."

"Why?" She sounded so utterly bemused. She was trying to understand that altruistic nature of his and failing.

So he told her, "They can't win, Jill. If I don't put my hand down for that one person and try...they win. I won't let them win. I will spend the rest of my life making sure I scrub the T-Virus from the face of the Earth. I swore it to a little girl in a dirty city a long time ago. I might not be perfect...but I keep my promises."

She had the strangest urge to hug him. It made her shake her head. A man who fucked spies and drank himself to death was a martyr in his bones. He was a study in contradictions that she was fascinated by. Being around him never, ever, got old.

He remarked, "Time to go, princess. You ready?"

"Absolutely."

He pushed, quietly, "You sure?"

She nodded with her face set, "You're right. If this doesn't end here, it'll end with a whole country overthrown. We can't let that happen...I'm with you. Wherever you go, I go."

He blew out a hard breath and nodded. Jill tucked a look around the corner where they hid and remarked, "Any idea where the hell that is?"

He laughed, and it was good to hear him do it, as he returned, "We're about eight city blocks from where the parking structure was in pretty unreliable terrain. Normally? This would take about five minutes to run there. Now? I have no idea what we're up against here."

Jill looked undaunted, "Sweet. That's how I like it. Try to keep your ass alive, would ya? I don't feel like dying today."

His mouth twitched. She gave him a straight face. He cleared his throat and gave her a dirty look, "Can the flirting, Valentine. You sound ridiculous."

She rolled her eyes, "You have an odd idea of what flirting is, Kennedy. Yours is about as stupid as that haircut you can't seem to get rid of."

"The ladies love it."

"The ladies are as stupid as you are."

Her mouth pursed trying to stop from lifting. He told her, "You'd miss the hair."

"Never. Ever...the ass maybe...occasionally."

He was glad she was there. As rough as things were with her, he was glad she was there.

He had to admit, as they ran and shagged their way across a war torn wasteland, it was good to not be alone for once. Jill was quick footed and capable. She kept up with him and didn't need help down steep slopes or up fences.

The heavy vest she wore didn't slow her down. Those killer thighs of hers pushed and ran like a champ. They cut across a narrow parkinglot that had once stood beside a liquor store and Leon paused to study the big semi truck sitting there.

A cute faced honeybee bobbed on the side, smiling prettily. He twisted his mouth, "...it's creepy right?"

Jill nodded, "Roger on the creepy."

He snorted and hurried down the long slope into the parking garage. The second they were in, the dark invaded and took all the color from the world. He hit the light on the assault rifle while Jill turned on the one attached to her 9mm. The beams illuminated the abandoned cars and silence.

His face must have been something to see because she said quietly, "Not a fan of parking garages?"

And Leon returned, "Never had a damn thing that was good ever happen in one. Most of the time? Somebody drops dead."

Proving that fate was indeed a foul faced asshat, a man staggered out covered in blood at that precise second and grunted, gurgling brokenly. They both froze. The man coughed and gasped.

And he went down on his back with a gasping wheeze.

Jill reached him first, putting her hand behind his head as Leon stated, "Damn! He's the contact. Scarecrow?" The man tried to focus from a face lacerated, beaten to a pulp, and soaked in blood, "Scarecrow...I'm the Tin Man. Can you talk?"

The man gurgled wetly and Leon sighed, "...I guess Scarecrows aren't known for their rousing conversational skills."

Jill rolled her eyes and tried, "Scarecrow...what's the link between the rebels and the B.O.W.S.? Please...anything at all will help us."

Scarecrow gurgled and gasped, blood spilled out of his mouth, and Leon rose with a curse, "Let's get him outta here."

She touched his swollen face with sympathy, "It's ok. It's alright. Just close your eyes." She shook her head at Leon's expression, "He's done, Kennedy. He's not gonna make it that far."

With a grunt, the man rattled off one word, "B...Beeeezz..."

They glanced at each other and then back at him as Leon queried, "...the bees outside? On that damn truck?"

Scarecrow whimpered and jerked, blubbering, "...Bee...keeper." Her bowed and cried out, body spasming toward death.

Jill touched his face again in sorrow, "Shhh. Shhhh. It's almost over."

Leon glanced at her over the dying man. He hadn't expected her to be so sympathetic to someone like that. What spurred it? He'd heard through the grapevine that she was cold.

He started to ask and a simple skittering echoed close by. If he lived a hundred years he'd never mistake that sound. It rapidly increased and he shouted, "Jill!"

He dove. He took her with him in a tackle and sent them both skidding as the licker joined their party. Scarecrow died quick, cleaved from his body with a swipe of one vicious claw. Blood flew in a red, red arc and splattered wetly as it warbled angrily and jumped around to find them.

It was up and jumping before Leon could blow its ugly brain apart. It leaped, Jill threw herself to the ground and Leon just kept on firing. Blood splattered in rain down on them as it took the 5.56 rounds and just kept going.

It fled; Leon chased it through the dark like a man possessed, and Jill complained, "...men."

She rolled to her feet and cut left through the cars to attempt to box the damn thing in. The chatter of gunfire echoed around the dark and sparked off cars in streaks of light. The licker leaped and ran, took a swipe at Jill's head, and got shot in the side by Leon for it.

It let loose a shrieking cry and ran for it. Leon took off after it so fast it was impressive.

Jill shouted, "STOP! WHY ARE YOU CHASING IT!?"

"Because _one_ of us doesn't let monsters escape!"

Was he talking about her inability to kill Wesker?!

So she shouted back, "Tin Man suits you, you asshole, since you have no _heart!"_

"Safer that way, sweetheart, keeps women from breaking it!" He shouted, "Apparently I'm chasing the cowardly lion! Stop running, you piece of sh-"

The explosion was bright, quick, and loud. Jill staggered back and fell on her ass as the rush of air from it pushed her down and out like a swat. Her back slammed into the column beside a Buick. Her gun skittered out into the dark and spun circles of light as it went. The ceiling of the garage fell in plopping chunks as the dust settled.

In horror, she shouted, "Kennedy!"

She pushed to her feet, staggering a little from the blowback. "Kennedy!?"

She hurried toward the rubble without grabbing her weapon, stupid -yes- but her goddamn heart was in her ears. She climbed over the rubble and got an eye full of what would probably haunt her forever. He was on his face. His arms trembled to push himself up. He was trying to rise.

The licker clicked over the ruined floor toward him.

Jill shouted, "LEON!"

She threw a handful of rocks at it as if it would drive it back.

He turned his head toward her voice, the licker lifted its claw to take his head, and then? It just...stopped.

Jill scurried down the small embankment. She ran across the derelict ground. She tugged her knife from his vest as she went. The licker was just waiting. What the hell was it doing?!

She shouted, "Over here you piece of shit!"

It turned toward her. It tried to decide if it wanted to leave Leon alive. It hissed and whipped the air with its tongue. She launched the knife at it anyway. She was done playing games. The knife whistled and thrust the tongue back. It was pinned to the column still standing beside it as the licker reared back in pain and anger. It squealed and fought to get free and Jill?

She threw herself atop Leon.

Surprised, he grunted.

She tucked her body around him and told him, "Move, ok?! Can you move?!"

She was guarding him with her body...from a licker.

_She was guarding him against a licker._

He was so dizzy that he couldn't make sense of that. So he groaned "...big hero."

There was a click of boots on the pavement. Jill shifted and tried, desperately to tug him toward the blown apart hole in the wall. She shouted, quaking with fear, "You stupid fat bastard! MOVE!"

The man emerged into the light from Leon's gun. Where was the fucking gun!? Jill twisted around looking for it. She grabbed him around the chest and begged, voice high, "Please! Please! Get up! Kennedy? Get up...you die, I die, remember? Get up. Hurry."

He'd taken a pretty shitty blow, he thought, he was so dizzy. Concussion? Jesus, he was hoping not.

He told her, "Leave me...leave me...I lied."

She froze, "What!?"

The old man was making his way toward them. He was moving funny. He was moving like the plagas infected she'd seen in the video at HQ. He was infected. She had no weapons and a wounded partner. If she left him to fight that man, the licker could get free and end him.

Leon grunted, head swirling, "...I do have a heart. Let me hold them here and prove it."

He collapsed completely against her. She shouted, terrified, "NO! Leon! Goddamnit!"

Was he breathing?! She didn't have time to check. She tugged him. She whimpered. Stupid. She could have stayed in the apartment and let him go alone. Now he was going to fucking drop dead and she was going to lose her head.

Men.

Jill grabbed him under his arms and dragged him painfully slowly. He was too big. There was no way. She needed to hoist him up. If she could get him over her shoulders, she could move with him. She pushed back, dragging all that muscle and stupid hair. She tried one more time, "...please. Leon? Please. Wake up."

The old man tugged the knife from the tongue of the licker. It raced at them and Jill gave up pulling him. She laid him on the ground to turn. She lifted her fists and braced. Bravely, she taunted, "Come _on! _You stupid ugly piece of crap! You gotta go through me first!"

As if that would be hard with no weapon, but it was her moment anyway. She was going to defend him apparently. Why not? He was a guy who wanted to save babies from war or die trying. He was worth fighting for. The least she could do was do the same.

The licker lifted its claw and stopped. It made a sound like a whimper and backed away from her.

The old man studied her where she stood. He spoke in heavily accented English. The Slavic accent was thick and gruff, "...why?"

She shrugged, "...he'd have done the same for me...I think."

The old man nodded. He rolled the knife in his hand and offered it back to her. Jill froze, watching him, and he grunted, "Come. Hurry."

"...I won't leave him."

The old man nodded, "...bring him."

The licker? It looped its tongue around Leon's waist and lifted him, settling him on its weird back as it scuttled. She stood there, transfixed, wondering if someone had indeed tossed them into a tornado and allowed them to wake up in OZ and she muttered, "...I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Sadly, Leon wasn't around to appreciate the reference.

She hurried after the old man. As she went, she ducked down to grab Leon's assault rifle. To go back for her gun, she'd have to leave him. She was _not _leaving him on the back of a licker.

The idea was horrifying.

And that's how she found herself chasing after Leon Kennedy face down riding on a licker like a horse right on down the emergency gas line route with an old man in a golf hat. She glanced down at the ground to find the remnants of yellow caution paint.

She shook her head and muttered, "...goddamn...follow the yellow brick road..."

She hummed it. She'd been spending _way_ too much time with that unconscious fool, he'd put all these stupid jokes in her head that she couldn't shake...and she'd sure as hell make sure he was around to hear how much she hated him for it.


	21. No Hope: Part 2: Chap 3

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Two:**

**-Where the Wild Things Are-**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Bound**

* * *

**Winter**

**-January 2nd, 2012-**

**Holifgrad, Eastern Slav Republic**

* * *

With a groan, Leon felt like he was hungover as his eyes peeled open. A flash of rage quickly faded when he realized that Jill hadn't cold-cocked him again, but in fact, he was tied at the wrists and plopped on a chair in a place that smelled like mold and stagnant water, with an enormous headache and Jill beside him in the same predicament.

Softly, she whispered, "Assholes. They took your gun when we got here and blindfolded me...but they treated your head." She sounded irritated but surprised. Her face was a mask of something he couldn't name as she added, "Are you ok? Do you know who I am?"

With a sharp inhalation, he grunted, "...Bill."

And Jill softly scoffed, "...jackass."

He turned his gaze to the man in front of him. A stocky looking fellow with bleached blonde hair and some earrings hooked up the delicate shell of each ear. He grinned and put a finger over his mouth to signal silence. He patted the vest he'd taken from Jill and grinned.

Leon lifted his voice, "Or what?"

And someone grabbed a handful of his hair, jerked his head back, put his own knife against his throat with a snarl and hissed, "Or I slit your throat and see if you still can taunt with that stupid mouth of yours."

Heavily accented English. His ears twitched. Local, by the timbre, and educated by the tone. The other one was grinning like a puppy and seemed, possibly, quite dumb.

The floor above echoed with footsteps and shouting Russian. Jill figured they were clearing the area. Leon figured it was the government looking for rebels. The face on the dumb one grinned again and bobbled his brows.

The second the noise abated, the knife was removed from his throat as the man behind him commanded, "We stay here until it's clear."

The bleached haired one grinned again, "This is the shit. You have more?"

Leon returned, deadpan, "Yep. Uncuff me and I'll take you to my stockpile."

The other man, much taller and more classically handsome with dark hair and eyes, barked, "Shut up, idiot. Do you know who we are?"

Leon glanced at Jill and back at the man before he stated, "Well..I already met the Scarecrow and they called me the Tin Man...that one is a dumb puppy, and you look like a girl...so I'm guessing Dorothy and Toto. Wanna take me to the wizard and get it done with? Or maybe you're the wicked witch instead."

The handsome one moved to kick him over in his chair and Jill spoke up, swiftly, "Hey! Hey...hey there. Hi. Yeah. Don't worry about him, he's grouchy. He was on vacation and they just dumped him here without breakfast. You know what they say about hangry right? That's this guy. Come talk to me instead."

The dumb one leered at her, "She's pretty. All that blonde hair. And that skinny jacket. American girls have big..." He stuck his hands out and humped them to indicate boobs, clearly, as he wiggled his brows, "They sell them in shops like beer there. Ya know? I like it. America has _all _the good shit!"

Leon smiled and nodded. Jill gave the man a withering look. "Let us go so we can go back to our vacation, ok? Seriously."

The goofy blonde one remarked, "Hey Buddy, you hear this? The CIA comes and takes this guy off his vacation to send him here. He must be high up, yeah?"

Leon scoffed, "Come on...I look like CIA to you? I'm just a guy on his honeymoon. This is my beautiful wife here. See how much she loves me?"

Jill faked a smile. It looked painful. Buddy scoffed. The other man was chipper as he exclaimed, "Why you come here anyway? You have all the hamburgers and the fried chicken and the Hollywood movies! America is great!"

Leon cocked a brow, "I thought all you Slavs hated America."

Buddy scoffed again. The other guy chattered happily, "Of course we hate America...but things _made _there?" He hugged the vest to himself, reached into the top chest pouch and pulled out a flask that he tipped to his lips and drank from with a sigh of happiness. "Buddy! He runs around with Scotch in this thing! I bet it even comes from a barrel-like the good stuff!"

Jill gave Leon a long-suffering look, "...seriously?"

He shrugged, "What?"

"You bring one rifle...and a flask?"

Leon returned, "In fairness, there _were _two guns...you appear to have lost yours."

Jill rolled her eyes, but honestly, she felt bad about it. It was the one he'd given her as a gift. She felt like a spiteful bitch for losing it, even though it had been in defense of him.

Buddy snorted, "Maybe you are married after all. She talks to you like a woman to her man."

Leon shrugged, "I have that effect on the ladies."

The man in his vest chirped, "I am J.D...although that's not my real name. Why did the CIA send you? You must be important to send all this way."

Leon sighed, "One more time for the cheap seats in the back - I. Am. Not. CIA."

Buddy advanced on him and shook his shoulders. Jill tried to diffuse the situation. "Ease down, seriously. Come on. We're cooperating here. What do you want?"

J.D. mused, "What kind of grenade is this?"

Leon suggested, calmly, "Pull the pin and find out."

Buddy barked, "J.D. stop being an idiot!"

J.D. gave Leon a long considering look and remarked, "Ataman said we should keep you alive. Why?"

In the corner, the old man that Jill had followed finally spoke. "Leave it be, J.D. Leave be." He was hunched over and appeared pale and sickly. His beard and mustache were slick from spittle and coughing.

He wore sunglasses at night and that alone made Jill whispered, "...Kennedy?"

While Leon was bantering with the two captors, Jill studied the old man. He grabbed at his chest like he was having a heart attack and coughed wetly into his arm. He was dying. It didn't take a doctor to see it.

But of _what_?

So she tried again, louder now, urgently, "Kennedy?"

He went quiet as the old man spoke again, "We must go...now. We can't stay here any longer."

Buddy implored, "No. Please. You cannot. You are too ill."

And the old man returned, "I am fine. I can do it. We must hurry, Sasha."

Leon couldn't stop the laugh, "Sasha? A girls face...a girls name...I could have _sworn_ it was Dorothy."

Buddy picked a piece of broken wood from the floor like he'd knock the other man out and there was a hard rapping at the door in their little underground hidey-hole. "Who is in there!? Come out with your hands up!"

Leon shook his head. Fools. They were the resistance, clearly, and being rounded up by the military to be executed. They were hiding out like moles in tunnels trying to wait out the search.

Buddy gestured with his head and J.D. ran in front of the door, lifting Leon's rifle...and holding it like an amateur without any training. Jill gave Leon a terrified face and he nodded.

The voices got tired of demanding surrender and just blew that door right off its hinges a second after Leon took down J.D. in a body tackle from the chair. J.D. gave him a shocked face from the floor as the uniformed soldiers poured in shouting commands, "Hands up! Surrender!"

Buddy dropped his weapon and one of the troops kicked the rifle free of J.D.'s hands as he and Leon rose. The old man was coughing like mad now as one of the troops demanded, "Who is the leader!? Identify yourself!"

When no one answered, the man backhanded Jill where she stood. It was so unexpected that J.D. shouted, "Hey!" And Buddy spat, "Cowards!"

Jill spit blood on the ground and turned her gaze back to him as the man demanded, "Tell me, come quietly, or I will hit her again!"

Leon spoke low and menacing, "You won't. You won't touch her again. Come pick on someone your own size or do you only beat on women?"

The man started to draw back his hand and the old man went into a shaking spasm where he stood. All the attention turned to him. He stumbled forward and his sunglasses tumbled to the ground.

Jill shifted, just a little, toward Leon where he stood and whispered, "...I'm not wrong."

He shook his head and called, "Get back from him, you idiots! He's _turned_!"

The old man lifted his head with eyes as red as blood on snow and the troops started shouting. The ruckus was perfect for Buddy to grab the gun from behind one and shoot two others across from him. The scattered soldiers started shouting and panicking, one made a grab for Jill and got headbutted by Leon so hard it sent him to his ass on the floor, and Jill stepped into his body as he swung an impressive roundhouse kick and took the other men around her down in the rush.

J.D. grabbed for the old man, swung his arm over his shoulders, and started hurrying for the door. It got him shot in the back and dumped on his face.

Buddy struggled with the man who'd hit her as Jill shouted, "Duck!"

And she shoulder shoved Leon to the floor while Buddy wildly sprayed the room. Buddy finished off the man who'd slapped Jill with a butt of the rifle to the face as he spat, "...coward!" And spit on the fallen man.

An odd thing to kidnap someone but have a problem with slapping women. Apparently, even bad guys had standards.

There was a rustle of footfalls and shouting on the floor above letting them know they were about to get the second wave of troops. Still cuffed, it was Jill and Leon out the door first before the gunfire started. The phrase "hail of bullets" was made for moments like this as the troops shot right through the rotting wood floor and down into their former safe haven.

Buddy was already free and clear with the old man. J.D. struggled to follow whimpering and staggering. The second the commotion started, Jill and Leon ducked into a separate off chute of the mining tunnels where they found themselves. The wooden struts and supports indicated it had once been quite well made. It was suffering under years of neglect and a failed economy, but the concept of a safe haven was still clear.

They slid against the wall, both silent, as Buddy and J.D. argued over what to do with Ataman and J.D. shouted, "I am shot! My time is done! It was...good...to have known you."

He dramatically collapsed against the wall and Buddy snorted, "Get up, you idiot! Do you think that vest you stole is a girl's blouse?"

To which J.D. chortled, "Of course! MADE IN AMERICA!"

On the ground, the old man warned them, "...it's over...Sasha. It's done. I will never survive to launch the attack on the Capital. You must...let me go."

J.D. called, "Where did the Americans go!?"

Jill was watching the man-made out of rubber get his hands from behind him to the front. There was a wet pop, lost under the coughing of the dying old man, as he popped his shoulder out of the socket and bought his arms down enough to slip them around his legs. There must have been something on her face like shock because he gestured with his head. Jill turned around, grabbed his bound hands with hers and pushed. Sharp. Quick.

_Pop. _Right-back in place.

She stared at him while the others kept on talking. There must have been concern or something on her face because he shook his head as if she'd asked him if he was hurt.

Buddy shrugged, "Dead probably. Who cares?" He knelt and urged, "We can still make it, Ataman. You just have to get up."

"It's over. Let it end for me. Don't ever abandon the fight. Promise me."

Buddy said quietly, "...I promise."

He rose, J.D. made a small whimper of grief, and Buddy pulled the gun from his back left hip. He aimed it at his old friend and pulled the trigger three times in sharp succession.

The silence was loud until he commanded, "I'm going to check on Marco. You get back to the church with the others."

The rustling of his steps faded. They listened to J.D. turn and head down the other tunnel and Leon gestured with his head. There was a flashlight on the ground highlighting the very dead old man as voices called, "I heard gunshots! THIS WAY!"

Jill whispered, "...does it hurt?"

And Leon shook his head, gesturing forward. Still bound, they followed quietly after J.D. "The others" were clearly more rebels in a church somewhere. Above ground, away from the military pursuit, was exactly where they needed to be. The answers to what was happening were probably among the living.

Of course, Leon glanced down at the dead old man, it might very well be among the dead as well. This old man had saved his life it seemed, and Jill's. It was a sad way to say goodbye to the world.

Whispering, he intoned, "Rest in peace, old man...if you can."

Leon plucked up the flashlight and shone it into the dark. Jill asked him, quietly, "Are you alright?"

He nodded.

It was silence after that as they moved soundlessly. J.D. veered off and was lost as they tucked around corners in a rat race of a maze. It became clearer with each step, that what they were actually in was a bunker of some kind. Most likely built for hibernation in the event of nuclear fallout during the second world war. It was stocked now as a hideout for the resistance.

The stones were strong and the construction had obviously taken effort and planning. They looped into a small chamber stocked with potting soil and various bags of fertilizer. Leon murmured, "Look for something to cut our bonds."

Jill tonelessly, returned, "Why? I'm used to being bound."

His mouth twitched as he peeked on shelves with the flashlight. Jill had just reached for a trowel with a jagged edge when there was a clatter of sound. She dropped and Leon took cover beside a tarp-covered pile of bagged topsoil.

He caught her eye between the shelves and she nodded at him. His flashlight bobbed over and landed on the cowering form of J.D. in the far back corner of the room. The man lifted his finger to his lips to keep them silent.

It might have worked if all didn't go to hell in the next breath.

The shadows lengthened and something came roaring out of the dark. It wielded a pair of gardening sheers like a weapon. Jill shouted and kicked the pile of topsoil desperately. It wiggled and made the rushing thing changed course by just enough it saved him the loss of his head as Leon rolled his back into an arch allowing the sheers to miss his nose and smack his bound hands instead. Sadly, he lost the flashlight in the struggle and it was tossed away to swirl along the floor and throw strobe effects before it stopped spinning.

He hit his back as the sheers smashed into the dirt beside his ear and Leon taunted, "...I look like I need a pruning?!" His boot kicked, the knee snapped on the man in a crunch and pop, and Leon rolled to his feet. He grabbed for the sheers as the thing on the ground struggled to gain it's feet and hiked them over his head to finish it.

J.D. shouted, "No! Don't kill him!"

Without a word, Leon drove the sheers into the snarling face of the infected man. It splatted, the blood plopped and a crunch of bone signaled his demise.

Jill gained her feet and J.D. whined, "Mr. Chenkov! He was my teacher! I said don't kill him!"

"He wasn't your teacher anymore and it was him or me...considering I like my head exactly where it is, I chose him." Leon gave him a withering look, "Either use that fucking gun or give it back. Do you hear me?"

Before he could retort, J.D. was snatched roughly from behind. The gun went flying out of his hands and Jill ran for it, for all the good it would do to have it with her damn hands behind her back. As she ran, one of them tackled her in the side. They went up and over a table, sliding over it as she tried to avoid losing a chunk of her face.

She hit the floor, Leon's boot hit the snarling man atop him, and another one got him from behind as he swung the sheers. They spun off and thrummed as the sheers stuck into the ground and Jill kicked Leon's attacker in the stomach as hers made a grab for her again.

It was all Leon could do to keep the one attacking him with the big bloody knife from killing him. His bound hands braced, his boots slipped in blood, Jill was trapped between the pile of old tools and the one trying to kill her with a shovel. Things were going to go bad very quickly unless someone helped.

The snarling, snapping, grunting man had him pinned to the tarp-covered thing beside him as it tried to eat his face and Leon shouted, "J.D. shoot the fucking thing!"

But nope. That wasn't happening. J.D. was having a panic attack at the thought of butchering his friends. J.D. went down with a shriek as his former comrade leaped atop him and Leon finally went back enough to push off the tarp, twist the wrist of the man trying to stab him in the face, and twisted up behind him. The knife snapped into his palms and was driven with a crunch into the back of that infected skull.

On the ground, Jill beckoned, "Help! Leon!"

He kicked the small fertilizer cart beside him and it rolled into her attacker. They stumbled, Jill shouldered it back, and Leon spun a kick at it to send it rolling. Before it got up, he finished it off with a knife in the face. "I like how I'm Leon when you need me, but never any time else."

She gave him a droll look, "Thanks...Kennedy."

J.D. shrieked again and Leon kicked it off him as it reared back. It's face split open to erupt the horrid piston dripping in saliva that would bury itself in his the other man's mouth to infect him with the parasite.

The Ganado rolled, Jill kicked it again while it was down, and Leon shook his head in judgment at the man on the ground. He rotated the knife, freed his hands, and stood over the fallen man to guard him.

The Ganado rose, it wobble walked to gain speed, and Leon stabbed it between the eyes without a word. There was a clatter as it hit the shelves and went down before the silence fell. Harshly, he told the man on the ground, "In the head, you fool, the _head. _Shoot them, or join them. Your choice...but next time? I might not be around to make sure you survive to fail."

"I-I will. I will next time. I will." J.D. bobbed his head like a doll with the same name. Leon rolled his eyes and gestured with his head for Jill. She turned and remarked, "You sure you want to cut me loose?"

Leon sliced her bonds free and as she turned he told her, "You saved my life up there, Jill. We both know it. Whatever else happens, I won't forget it."

She shook her head, "He never intended to kill you. I didn't do anything."

"You didn't know that when you threw yourself on top of me, did you?"

They held gazes until she murmured, "...it wasn't selfless. If you die, I die...right?"

He scoffed, "Yeah...some real Shakespearean Tragedy shit, isn't it?"

Jill smiled as he took her arm above the elbow and helped her over the body on the ground. They started to move down the hallway before them and J.D. beckoned, "Hey! Hey...this way, ok? Come on."

Leon mused, "Sure...because following your enemy when he _knows _about it always ends well. There's no way he's leading us into a trap...right?"

Jill smirked, "You got somewhere better to be?"

"Nope. Let's go see what clever plot that evil genius up there is cooking up." He handed her the knife and picked up a crowbar from the ground, hefting it for weight. Shitty choice of weapons, but better than nothing. Besides, in something that felt like a bomb shelter? He was betting they'd come across a pressurized sealed door or two.

As they followed J.D. into a narrow tunnel, Jill told him about the old man and the lickers and wondered, "...is that possible?"

Curious, his brows arched, "What?"

"...the old man. He controlled those lickers. How? How is that possible?"

Leon shrugged and held her back so he could clear up and down the hallway before they followed J.D. across to another one. "Saddler had control to an extent but not like that. You're saying he had some kind of telepathy with them?"

"It had to be. He didn't issue verbal commands. They just...obeyed. You saw it right? An inch from cleaving your face in half..."

He nodded gathering a breath, "I don't know, Jill. Hopefully, we can get some answers because if this is true? It's worse than anything I ever imagined here. It means someone can control an army of B.O.W.S._ mentally_ and there's no way for us to know who is doing it."

She started to answer and J.D. called, "Here! Help me!"

A big steel door waited. Leon shoved the crowbar in and they started pulling. A clatter down the way they'd come let them know they weren't alone anymore.

Jill, calmly, suggested, "Pull harder please."

Grunting, Leon told her, "I'm doing the best I can, sweetheart. You wanna take over?"

"Maybe you should do more push-ups and less swimming."

J.D. made a whimper of fear and poked himself through the opening. Leon kept leveraging it a little more so he'd fit and replied, "Yeah? Then you'd have to go back to peeping on me in the shower to see me all wet and sexy."

Jill rolled her eyes. Behind her, the head of the closest man erupted in a shower of fluid and blood. Tentacles replaced it, whipping wildly in the cold air. Her voice was a little worried, "Wanna let me through at least?"

He tossed her the crowbar instead and kept on pulling.

Jill, sighing, turned back toward the five ganados and rushed one of the ones that hadn't turned into the next stage. She put it through his face, spun around, and dropped low to avoid getting her head slapped off her shoulders by the tentacles.

One managed to clip her cheek as she crouched and ran back toward the door, shouting, "Any time now, Kennedy, who's the fucking girl here!?"

He caught her arm and slung her through the opening. She bumped into J.D. and spat, "Next time leave the gun, you little asshole."

Leon rolled his big shoulders through and threw his weight against the door as the tentacles slapped and clapped and smacked through the opening. He grunted, "A little help here!?"

Jill grabbed a chain off the wall beside the door and looped it over the handle. Leon gripped the other end, fishtailed it round the heavy wrought iron lantern that waited and hooked the lock to it. The door held as the angry ganado rushed it slathering spit and hungry for blood.

J.D. shuddered and invited, "...this way."

He went up the ladder first. Leon gestured with his hand, "Ladies first?"

"I thought I was a dude." Jill jumped on the ladder and started up.

"I might have to revise that opinion."

She made a _pffft _sound with her lips and teased, "I dunno...I figure at least one of us is a dude, right? You kinda shouted like a little girl back there."

He didn't laugh. It was difficult, but he kept it in. However, he retorted, "Little? I was at the very least a full-grown woman."

Jill's chuckle was echoing as she climbed, "Good. And with you behind me, at least you got a pretty clear view to kiss my ass, right? Pucker up, princess."

Man. She certainly gave shit like a dude. Maybe she was Bill after all.

Who was he kidding? That butt was the least manly thing he'd ever seen...ever.

He watched her ass with his lips pursed and decided, "...women."

Watching that heart-shaped glory go up that ladder in the worst possible situation, he was pretty grateful they existed even if sometimes he wanted to grab them by the throat and shake the life out of them. Or?

Toss them over his lap to paddle that perfect ass pink.

With the option he wanted lost to him, he chose instead to follow the ass in question right on up into a war torn nightmare.

Sometimes, life had a really sick sense of humor.

What did the greatest poets in the world have to say on it? He hummed it quietly as the song jingled through his head - You cant always get what you want. He reached the top of the ladder even grumpier than he'd imagined.


	22. No Hope: Part 2: Chap 4

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Two:**

**-Where the Wild Things Are-**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Plagas**

* * *

**Winter**

**-January 2nd, 2012-**

**Holifgrad, Easter Slav Republic**

* * *

As they reached the top, Jill helped Leon free and they found themselves in what had once been a pretty square. It was desolate now and destroyed by war and RPGs. The collapsed stone and derelict houses were somehow more depressing in the rising dawn than they had been in the cold dark.

Even without the destruction of a war gone wrong, the city felt impoverished. The peeling paint and cracking stone suggested settling foundations that had never been reinforced. The slumping balconies and sidewalks that shifted and cracked had come long before the rebels had stood up against tyranny. There was evidence of a nation that had once sagged under the saturation of communism and neglect. It was hard to imagine what life had been like before it had turned into a nightmare for these people.

The steeple of a massive church waited across the square offering just a little bit of an idea of what had been prominent in the lives of the poor who'd worked and lived in the falling down buildings. It was beautifully maintained, a monarch to the image of the Lord they had worshiped and likely clung desperately to as they'd died in war that never should have happened.

As they started toward it, a soldier let out a shriek as a group of ganado held him down to infect him. J.D. attempted to lift the gun to help and Leon gripped the barrel and pushed it down, shaking his head. It didn't feel good leaving the man behind like that, but he was dead anyway and with J.D. holding the gun, they were also outmatched.

Instead, they hurried toward the church and left the man there to shriek and turn.

Horror was nearly as thick in these forsaken streets as regret.

The little man opened the heavy wood doors and let them inside. The church was ornate, beautiful, with exposed beams and stained glass windows showing scenes from the bible in lovely faded colors. An intricate altar in gold and red waited beneath the watchful eye of a chandelier that sparked light from prisms as it rotated on its shiny gold chain. It was a classic gothic revival in a way that said these people had once, very strongly, followed the tenants of their faith. Any little money they'd had, clearly, they'd tithed to the church for the upkeep of their house of worship.

The pews had probably once been filled with the devout and the downtrodden seeking guidance in the darkness of a world without faith.

Now? It was empty.

J.D. cursed and the click of the gun being raised had Leon freezing and Jill doing the same as he growled, "What did you do!?"

Brows arched, Leon told him, "Me? This is your fault."

"Mine!?"

"Yeah. That plagas you were hiding out here...it got loose and infected all your people. Your precious townsfolk are being controlled by that parasite. They're fucked. It attaches itself to them via the spinal cord and infiltrates the central nervous system."

J.D. barked, "What!? What shit is this? Stop talking stupid. There must be a way to stop it!"

"Sure." Leon shrugged, "If you want to paralyze them or kill them on the spot trying to rip out of their spine."

"No! You are lying!"

"Am I? Then why did you kill the old man?"

When J.D. was silent, it was Jill that finished the thought, "...because you knew he couldn't be saved. He'd never be human again."

The side doors of the church opened with a squeal and revealed Buddy flanked by two men carrying AK-47s. He remarked, "It is true, J.D. I'm actually glad you survived. I have some questions for you, Mr. Not-a-Spy."

Leon shrugged,. The click of hammers dropping was joined by a floating red dot that appeared on Jill's forehead. Without a word, Leon lifted his hands to show they were empty. "Dorothy...I was wondering when you'd turn up again. My...people do come and go quickly around here."

Only Jill got the reference to the Wizard of Oz again. What was the deal with it? Was it to show they weren't in the same world they'd once been? It didn't take a fantasy land reference to make that clear.

Jill wanted to kick Leon in the shins for being so sarcastically blase at a time like this. Instead, she tried to defuse Buddy, "We can help with what's happening. Let us help."

Buddy scoffed, "It is your fault this is happening. You filthy Americans, making the world yours to police and running away when it finally asks for help. Where have you been while my people are dying!? No aid, no help, just this...you leave us no choice but to defend what's ours by whatever means necessary."

Leon shook his head, letting out a bark of angry laughter, "Just like any other fucking asshole looking to blame the world for its problems...we didn't pick up the parasite and plant it in your hands, _Sasha, _that was you. Ask yourself who's really to blame for the mess you're in. Maybe your people are dead because of _you."_

Buddy swung hard. He didn't pull it. The punch connected and Leon turned into it as beads of blood flew from his mouth. Jill let out a gasp and urged, "Stop! Stop it! Stop. What good is this doing?"

She shifted, just a little until she was slightly in front of him. Touched, amused, Leon took her arm above the elbow, "It's alright, sweetheart, I can handle him. He even _hits _like a girl."

Jill gave him a wilting look and mused, "You wanna get punched again?"

He chuckled and Buddy instructed, "Tie him up and take her to the rectory. I want them apart. Now!"

Panicking, Jill shouted, "No! No...don't. I can't leave him."

She literally couldn't, but they didn't need to know that. Buddy gave her a dirty look so she gushed, "I'm...pregnant. I need him."

Leon stiffened like she'd kicked him in the ass. Buddy gave her a long look and sighed, "Fine. Put them together in the rectory. Tie him to the goddamn desk if you have to. I don't care."

Curious, Jill mused, "Not me?"

"You are pregnant, you won't do anything stupid to hurt your baby." He jerked his head, "Get them outta here."

As they started passed with two guards with guns escorting them, Buddy told them, "Try to escape, and I will forget that I am against killing women and children."

Leon's jaw flexed. A squeaky door was opened and they were summarily shoved inside. Leon was tied to a gargoyle bust that was squatting like a fat stone watchdog in the corner. Jill sat down on the edge of the desk as they snapped the door shut behind her.

Into the silence, he demanded, "You wanna talk about the pregnant remark?"

She shrugged, "I lied. It felt like the right thing to do at the time. Otherwise, they'd have taken me off and this collar would have brought me down."

With a tone as dry as the desert, Leon responded, "...lied, huh?"

She gave him a dirty look. "Don't you worry, hotshot. Your legacy is still yours to bear. I'm not carrying the next heir to the Kennedy dynasty in my womb."

He didn't even look worried. He looked kinda...what? What was that? Jill tilted her head and finally filled the quiet, "...you sad about that?"

He grunted and scoffed. He shifted away to look out the window beside him. "No. Why would I? You think I wanna have a baby with a waspy tongued witch who hates me?"

Jill said nothing. She let that grow into a pregnant thing itself before he gruffed, "What!? What is it?"

She shook her head and muttered, "...nothing. It's nothing."

"Good. Table the high school drama for now. Let's figure out how to get out of here."

She just kept looking at him until he finally felt like she was burning holes in his back with it. "For god's sake, Jill, what is it?"

Jill bounced her eyes over his face and said quietly, "...do you wish I was pregnant?"

His laugh was so angry it made her wince, "No. You kidding? No. You know why?"

She shook her head no. He jerked on his bound hands uselessly and told her, "Simmons, that stupid fuck, he'd like that. They'd sanction the pregnancy."

Jill went very still. She vibrated with compressed energy. "They what?"

"Yeah," His angry laugh echoed this time, "Yeah, right? You have my baby and hand it over to them and you're free. You're free of me forever - free of them- they'll give you a full pardon for it. The child of two naturally immune parents? It's a gift. What do you think? Wanna go for it?"

When she was so quiet, he finally stopped trying to get himself unbound and turned to look at her. With a note of real hurt, he tried again, "...thinking about it? You wanna bend over that desk and see what we can cook up in that oven of yours? Maybe it'll have my hair and your filthy mouth."

She stared at him until he added, waspishly, "Hell...it won't really matter though, will it? They'll poke it full of holes and make it a pin cushion-like Sherry. Raised in isolation like some kind of fucking animal. Shit...it will_ wish _it had my shitty old man as opposed to being raised in a whitewashed room away from the world."

She was so silent it was starting to alarm him so he just kept on ranting, "Of course...we'll probably die here anyway, right? So it's moot. When I was young I used to say moo...I used to say the point was moo. Like a cows opinion, ya know? It just doesn't matter. Maybe the kid will get my sense of humor. Comedic timing though, you can't really teach that sh-"

Her hand laid atop his that was jerking on his bonds. She shook her head when he looked at her and admonished, "Stop...before you hurt yourself. Just...stop."

Right. Stop. They both knew she wasn't just talking about trying to get his hands free.

Stop all of it. The thought of her having his kid and losing it to this godforsaken job that had taken everything else from him. Stop thinking of her as the type of woman who would trade her child for freedom. It was unfair. It was bullshit.

It wasn't Jill.

It was the type of thing Ada would do.

He stopped jerking on his hands. Jill patted his wrists and turned to look around the room. "Gotta be something in here that will do the job, right?"

He cleared his throat, focusing on what they could control here, "I doubt it, but if you can find anything at all with a sharpened edge..."

"They took my knife down there."

"I know." He watched her move around and check drawers on the desk, "If you can't get me loose when they come back just create a diversion so I can kick the shit outta them and get us out of here."

Jill rolled her eyes, "I can handle them, Kennedy, trust me."

He snorted, "No doubt. I've never met a more ball busting bitch."

Jill made a _pfft _sound. "Sure you have. She was just in your kitchen on Christmas."

He went quiet while she dug around looking for anything usable. After a moment, to fill the silence, Jill admitted, "That's pretty bad ass to be able to pop your own shoulder out of socket like that."

Leon shrugged, "You learn to do shit when you're tapped without much hope. There's not much you aren't willing to do to get free."

Who knew that better than her?

Jill rose from the desk and sighed, "No luck." She approached him and tugged on his wrists behind his back. "I don't guess you can peel the skin off your hands to get them free huh?"

He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her, "Sorry, kid. If my skin peels off, you'd better start running. Chances are, you've got about five seconds before I start trying to eat you."

She smiled and shook her head, "I don't think I'd taste that good." She tugged on the bonds to the gargoyle thinking maybe she could just get him free of th-

"I know you do."

Bastard. He knew just how to hit her in the feels. He said it quietly. Jill turned her head to look at him and their noses brushed.

After a handful of seconds, she stepped back from him. "I'm thinking about seeing if I can get a guard in here with some kind of ruse and get his weapons...but that might get you killed. It's risky."

"What have we got to lose?"

Jill moved to the door and knocked, "Anyone out there?"

No answer.

"Hello?"

No answer.

She heaved a sigh and tied the knob just in case. Locked. Well, at least she'd given it a shot. Leon sighed and sat down on the gargoyles back. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

Jill remarked, "Really? You can nap like this?"

"..you got a better idea?"

She made a sound like a tire expelling air. "Sadly, no."

To his surprise, she came over and heaved herself up beside him on the gargoyles back. Head tilted back, he cracked one eye open to look down at her. Softly, she confessed with a flush on her cheeks, "...I can't sleep that far from you."

A few seconds passed and he closed his eye again. Jill leaned against the wall until he invited, "...some bad ass you turned out to be. You can put your head on my arm, kid."

She rolled her lip under her teeth, "Won't that hurt?"

He smirked, "No. You're good."

"You sure? With the...ya know..._Lethal Weapon _style arm trick?"

He tilted his mouth up again, "Lean against me or don't, Jill. Whichever you want."

She scooted a little closer and finally leaned her cheek against his arm. The suede of his coat felt soft against her face. Her hand shifted and slid over his belly to rub the jacket a little more as she told him, "...that's so soft."

He grunted in response and she added, "I guess I didn't think it would be."

With a tone of amusement, he told her, "Go about eight inches south and it won't be."

Jill snickered a little and made him smile as she remarked, "Bad timing, you pervert, although...we are so fucked right now. What are we gonna do?"

He inhaled sharply and finally leaned his cheek against the top of her head saying, "Survive. What else is there?"

She nodded. She shifted until she was sort of hugging him around the middle. There was nothing they could do now but wait.

Just as she started to doze off, the door cracked open. A small face appeared in it with a crop of dark honey blonde hair. A little girl in a dirty dress peeked at them and Jill almost spoke until Leon beat her to it.

She understood nothing but their names. He was introducing them, clearly.

He spoke in that Slavic tongue he was good at. The little girl looked frightened and then curious and then charmed. She cracked the door open, spoke back to him, and set a doll on the floor by the door. It was tiny, barely bigger than a key chain and made of yarn with silly yellow hair that looked like it had stuck a finger in an electrical socket and been shocked. She pointed at him and at the doll, smiling big. She pointed to herself and said, in broken English, "Me.._Polina."_

Jill smirked, "...she's making fun of your hair."

He snorted. "Is she? Sounds to me like she thinks I look like a man who belongs in the movies."

"...pfft. Pornos, maybe."

He couldn't stop the chuckle. Polina laughed too and said something rapidly, tossed the doll in the air, and pretended to punch it in the face. She let it fall on the floor and shook her head again, looking angry now.

Jill, touched by it, asked him, "What did she say?"

"That the other children didn't like Buddy hitting me. One of them speaks English. He understands we're here to help. She's going to talk to the children about setting us free."

Jill shook her head, rapidly, "No no. That's bad. That'd dangerous. Tell her no."

"I know that. Be still."

When he spoke again to the little girl, she happily answered. They went on for about five minutes before someone shouted, "Polina!"

The little girl jumped, grinned, and spoke rapidly before she giggled and ran for it. She snapped the door shut with a flurry of sound. Jill waited until all was quiet before she spoke again, "...you fucking charmer."

He cracked an eye and rolled it down on her, "...what's that?"

"What did you say to her? She adored you."

Leon shrugged, "I just asked about who was in the church. She told me there were eight children besides her and maybe twice as many adults. She's smart and curious and wanted to know if I could do eighteen flips while fighting the bad people."

Charmed, Jill wondered, "Can you?"

"Not quite. I did eleven once and got cocky. Landed bad and fractured my ankle."

"Ouch."

"Hmm," He shrugged, "I told them not to help us. I don't want them involved. I don't think Buddy would hurt them, based on how he reacted to you...but I can't promise about these other fuckers here."

Jill was quiet until he opened both eyes and queried, "What?"

She told him, "...you like children."

Surprised, he felt his mouth quirk, "Who doesn't? Children are like dogs that talk."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, "That's offensive, Kennedy. You're aware of that right?"

He winked at her and shut his eyes again. Him and that charm, Jill thought, he even charmed children. She leaned her head against his arm and sighed. Sadly, eighteen flips or not wouldn't get them any closer to escaping.

* * *

Jill came awake when the voices outside the door started bickering. She shifted against his shoulder and discovered it had darkened to the evening at some point and that Leon was already awake and aware beside her. Jill sat upright and told him, "Sorry. You could have woken me."

"...why? We got somewhere to be?"

She shook her head, "...you have any idea what they're saying out there?"

He shrugged, "Sure. It's Belarusian...butchered with slang so I'm thinking far east."

Jill scanned his face, "...sounds Russian."

He nodded a little, "It's a Slavic language, so it can sound similar if you aren't familiar."

"How many languages do you know?"

He shrugged again and she saw the concentration on his face as he listened to their captors argue, "...last check I think I was fluent in over two hundred. I struggle with a lot of the Swahili dialects though. They're fucking difficult."

Jill blinked, "Not to sound like a dumbass, but I didn't really think there were all that many spoken languages left in the world."

He smiled, charmed, "Yep...something like almost seven thousand at last count. So actually? What I know is kinda pathetic."

Quietly, she urged, "Say something in one of them."

"Which?"

"I don't know...whatever they're speaking out there."

So he did and it sounded odd coming out his mouth. She watched his mouth while he spoke and laughed a little, "That was super weird."

He shrugged, "What're you gonna do, huh?"

Jill shifted and slid off the gargoyle. She stretched and asked, "What's the conversation out there anyway?"

"Oh," He rolled his neck and popped it, "They're planning to kill me."

Jill froze. She turned from looking out the window to stare at him. "...they're what?"

Leon looked as blase as anyone ever had regarding their own demise, "...yeah. They're gonna kick down the door in a minute and kill me like a government dog without a master..."

She arched her brows and he clarified, "Their words, not mine."

Jill shook her head, "Forget that shit. I'm getting us out of here."

Looking a little concerned, he cautioned, "Hey...hey hey hey. Don't be stupid. They're just grunts, Jill, they're not gonna make a move without Dorothy's decision wherever she is."

Jill gave him a dirty look, "Stop antagonizing him, you idiot. You want him to beat you to death?"

Leon scoffed, "He's a coward. He wouldn't be so tough if I wasn't tied up."

She considered him, "You like kicking asses to redeem yourself from a skinny kneed dork who loved physics?"

He rolled his eyes, "Just don't do anything st-"

And Jill started shouting, "_Oh help me! Oh my goodness!"_

The door was throw open and the first man through got kicked in the back of the knee, his gun jerked from his surprised hands and pistol-whipped across the face so fast with his stolen weapon that it was over before he hit the floor. Leon sat perplexed with interest as the next one that came in was summarily kicked from her hip in the groin, her elbow swung into his startled face, and Jill spun a back kick at him that sent him reeling and right over the balcony railing outside the door. He collapsed into the pews below him with a shout from the other men.

Amused, Leon speculated, "Welp...you've done it now, kiddo. You ready to start killing them?"

"I'm gonna try not to."

He adjusted his position to give it all his attention. "Go for it. So far? I like your style."

Jill shot the rifle into the railing as the next man came running. He shouted and backed up as she commanded. "Stop speaking that gibberish and get me someone who speaks English!"

Leon chuckled, "It's not gibberish to them, Valentine."

"Shut up, would ya? I'm working here."

"Oh, right, apologies. Continue."

She rolled her eyes as a voice called to her, "Hey! It's is me! I am coming in, ok!?"

Leon paused as the noise outside the room escalated before it was gone. J.D. emerged in with a grumpy look on his face. He jerked his head at Jill and cut the bonds holding Leon's cuffed hands to the Gargoyle. He poked his gun into Leon's back and instructed, "Move it. Now."

Jill eyed J.D. and demanded, "You kidding, you ugly little hobbit? Let him go, now."

J.D. gave her a panicked look, "Listen...I must escort him. I have to! Or they will shoot you both the second you leave this room. I will help...but you have to do what I say!"

Jill glanced at Leon. He winked at her and had her rolling her eyes as she answered, "Fine. But anything goes wrong and I blow off that bad dye job and leave a hole in your head bigger than the Grand Canyon."

Leon snorted. J.D. shook his head, "I don't like American girls. They talk like men. You need to pretend to be a man to prove yourself in America?"

Jill gave him a withering look. Leon tried to stop the smirk. And J.D. signaled with his gun to get moving.

Hands behind his back feeling like a permanent affliction, Leon walked in the front. Jill moved beside him and J.D. barked, "Out this door. Now."

They went out a side door of the church into the dark. At some point, they'd been sitting and rotting in that room long enough that night was nearly on them. The second they were clear of the church, Jill instructed, "Cut him loose, now."

J.D. did and Leon immediately turned, gripped his wrist and turned it, divested J.D. of his weapon and put him face-first against the wall. He held him there with a hand on his shoulder and the other hyperextending his arm to pin him in pain.

J.D. grunted, "Please! PLEASE! Listen!"

Leon returned, "You kidding!? Listen? You're lucky I don't feed you the end of this rifle into your stupid flapping trap."

J.D. tried again, "Please! Buddy...he's gone to get the sample! He's gone to make himself-"

Leon cursed and shoved him away. The small man staggered and Leon spat to Jill, "He's gone to make himself like the old man."

Jill arched her brows, "What does that mean?"

Leon laughed, harshly and waved a hand at J.D. "It means this little turd and the rest of his freedom fighters have been playing puppet master to the parasites. The bad news? The parasite _never _loses."

J.D. shifted and shouted, "We had to! The rest of the world was ignoring our pleas! We did what we had to!"

Jill lifted her gun on him, "You piss haired midget! You've just handed over your friends to the monsters! You can't control them! Eventually? They will turn and send all those goddamn monsters back to kill you!"

J.D. shook and trembled and yelled, "I know! That's why I need your help! I don't know what you are doing here, I don't even care!...but I need you to help us! Please!"

Leon gnashed his teeth and finally told Jill, "You and your idiot friends helped this city burn. Those children in your church there? They deserve to PROTECTED!"

God. That shouting. Jill felt her heart skip a beat. She tried to soothe him, "...Kennedy...look at me."

She could see it all over him. Part of him wanted to kill the man who'd set him free for the faces of dirty children he'd ever even met. He took a step forward and Jill tried again, more urgently, "Leon?"

He paused. He turned his head toward her and she nodded, "We can get those kids now and try to get them to some kind of evacuation point. We can do that if that's what you want. Is it?"

J.D. blurted, "No! I will care for them! I will! But I need you to help us! PLEASE."

He hesitated. She saw the indecision on his face before he finally inhaled sharply and decided, "We can't let him get that shit, Jill. You remember where you saw it?"

J.D. told them, "Where Ataman found you! The case...it was there. He lost it during the struggle with the soldiers. Buddy...he's headed there. Past the marketplace. You need to hurry. Now!"

Leon hefted the AK47 and backed up as he shamed the small man once more, "The risk was _never _worth the reward."

"You can say that!" J.D. shouted at him, "Because you didn't watch your world catch fire when the government decided to condemn us all as rebels. You didn't bury everyone you knew."

Leon shook his head, "Save your breath. You and me? We ain't seeing eye to eye, pal. When I get back, I want my fucking vest."

As he started to turn, a small face poked out of the side door. Leon hesitated, turned his angry scowl into a soft smile and spoke gently to the girl. She giggled and nodded and pointed at her chest before she gave him a thumbs up. The door closed behind her and Jill waited until he looked at her and asked, "What?"

"...you wanna stop flirting and do your job?"

She was teasing, clearly. He shook his head as the moved through the streets swiftly, "I told her to gather the others and go some place with a door they could lock and wait until I come back."

Jill arched her brows, "You don't know that you will come back though."

He nodded, jaw set, and returned, "Yeah, I do. I never make promises I don't keep."

He left her behind a little as he hurried ahead. She felt a roll of warmth about him that she didn't appreciate. Even little girls loved him...the jerk. She kinda hated that she was one of them.


	23. No Hope: Part 2: Chap 5

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Two:**

**-Where the Wild Things Are-**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Dichotomy **

* * *

**Winter**

**-January 2nd, 2012-**

**Holifgrad, Eastern Slav Republic**

* * *

Jill jogged up beside Leon as they hurried across the square. As they ran, she glanced over at him. Leon told her, hurrying and keeping to the corners and walls as much as possible for cover, "Pay attention before you trip on your feet, princess."

Jill scoffed. She shoulder bumped him and took the lead and he smirked, giving chase with a wry twist of his lips. The laughter took a back seat to the smooth glide of light that washed over the pitch-black interior of the dilapidated garage. Jill cleared left and Leon went right speaking quietly, "Clear the area and head to the northern edge near the collapse."

Jill nodded and split off from him.

The quiet stretched as she moved sleekly and almost silently through the carcasses of abandoned cars. She followed a curl of moonlight around toward the collapsed edge where Leon had gone down. Some concrete trickled from the shattered ceiling. The stars winked prettily in the open mouth of jagged ruin.

In the shadows near a pile of rubble, an aluminum case waited. Jill hurried toward it and crouched only to have her hope dashed quickly enough. It was empty. Someone had gotten there first.

Buddy?

A voice echoed around her, "Somebody beat you to it."

Jill spun, the gun whipped up and was blocked by a pair of arms and her attacker jerked, divested Jill of her weapon, and slung it away. It clattered over the ground as Jill dipped low, stuck her shoulder into their sternum, and flipped them right over her back.

A woman, clearly, as she grunted as went up and over, straight into a cartwheel, and landed with a gun aimed at Jill's face.

Jill ducked to pick up her AK and the woman commanded, "I think not. Freeze."

The moonlight struck her face. Jill felt the angry laugh bubble right on up as she spat, "..._Ada._"

It was the woman in red alright - in a business suit with a pencil skirt and a blood-red blouse beneath. Her heels were the color of scarlet kisses. Ada tilted her head in consternation. The girl didn't have Leon. Where was Leon? It was curious she was alone. What was the most curious? She looked like she just must shoot before she asked questions.

Jill Valentine was certainly no Leon Kennedy. In those blue eyes? A very clear, very cold, very simple killer.

The rubble was deep, wide, and desolate. The wind kicked up with the warbling cry of the crows that nested atop the dead power lines that lined the canvas of a city that had once been sprawling and was now a hollowed-out husk of a necropolis. The living that had once roamed unchecked through crumbling alleyways were long since obliterated; byproducts of a decision to neutralize an entire city and try to mitigate the threat it had posed on the government.

The decision had been an impossible one. It had meant consigning hundreds of thousands of people to death. It wasn't one that had been taken lightly. The survivors that had escaped were few, far between, and jaded. No one had left this once great city the same person they had been when they entered. Even if it could it be saved, there might be nothing left to come home to.

And no one, in their right mind, would have been hanging around the corpse of the thing without a very shady, very ugly agenda.

Two women stood facing each other in the shell of what might have been and the feeling of Raccoon City wasn't lost on either of them.

One was there for evil, the other for good – both were there for plagas. They were the opposing forces of nature; the sirens atop the police car that spun in circles and alerted those nearby to the presence of strength and power. One was in red, the other in blue – the long-standing color of their character. Two different shades of fire, burning on, the eternal struggle.

The symbolism wasn't lost on either of them.

It was the one in blue that spoke first. Her voice echoed through the shells and sloping disaster around them. The buildings that remained in any kind of condition were little more than steel carcasses, outlines of the skyscrapers and brick creations that had lined the family-friendly streets.

Both could see the shadows and ghosts of the people who'd once stood there, played there, loved there and roamed amongst the shops and the restaurants. The one in blue could see herself: young, fearless, full of hope and laughter. She'd met her best friend in the shell of a city like this and lost her innocence as well. The one in red could see herself: young, fearless, full of determination and grit. She'd met the only man in the world that still haunted her there and nearly lost her life.

Incredible to find a mirror of that in a city on the verge of being purged as that one had.

Both had been born in blood amongst the streets of the midwestern town. Both had been bred and built on the back of the fallen corporation that still burned, bled, and made ugly babies through the world. Both had stood in the ashes and seen the fallen, climbed from the wreckage and become strong, admirable, and respectable women in their given fields.

And both had coveted the same man. The man who'd been a boy in this empty ghost town, the man who'd nearly died a thousand times since that night when he'd been late and sealed his fate, the man who'd dedicated his life to the destruction of the company who'd created the things that turned cities like this into burnt-out nightmare. Both had saved him. Both had paced beside him in times of survival.

But, if the one in red had her way, only she would leave this city alive.

Jill demanded, "Wanna tell me what the hell you're doing here?"

Ada shrugged, "Not really."

Jill hefted rifle at her face, "You release the plaga?"

Ada scoffed, "Don't make me laugh. I just came to...lend _them _a hand."

Jill's brows cocked, "Whose them?"

Ada paced in a circle around her as they kept their guns on each other. "Turns out? They didn't need my help after all. Storming the capital makes my job so much easier."

Jill narrowed her eyes, "What are you after?"

The sparkle in that dark pair of demon eyes reflected the moonlight as Ada told her, "I'm after what's _mine. _What I'm entitled to."

Jill's laughter was harsh and dry, "You're entitled to _shit, _you treacherous bitch. Maybe he's been blind to you all these years, but I know who the hell you are."

Impressed, Ada tilted her head the other way, "Do you? What do you know?"

Jill flashed her teeth in a smile, "I was with Wesker, remember? A better question is what _don't _I know?"

"Well..that's easily rectified, isn't it?"

"Yeah?...what's stopping you?"

Ada studied her, no fool, and no woman that was known to race against another in sheer spite. Jill returned her judgment with her own.

The one in blue said, "What are you doing here, Ada? Looking to pick of the bones of a failed resistance?"

Her voice echoed like thunder around them. The one in red said, "Oh, no. It's bigger than that. Where is your captor? Shouldn't he be here stopping your death? Didn't get the point the last time we met, I see."

"Oh, I got it," Jill tossed the rock in her palm and caught it again, "He was yours first, right? Your toy. Your game. Your guy. But that's the thing...he's not. He's not mine either. Turns out...he's just a guy trying to stop the shit you keep spreading."

Surprisingly, the bitch in red said, "Me? You don't know what you think you do if you imagine I'm responsible for this. I don't make the messes, Ms. Valentine, I just slide into the cracks and take what I want during the fallout. What good would kill me do? I usually trade back what I take from him. Fairness is often the name of the game in foreign intelligence."

"Oh, I have no doubt. I bet you like trading it to him. I've had him after all...so I can see the pleasure," Jill leaned on the bent metal frame of an old street lamp. It sent rusty dust down on her and made a sound of protest. "But tell me something first…"

"Because I naturally like to converse first with a person trying to kill me.."

"Oh course. What's your end game?"

Ada lifted a brow, "Pardon?"

"Don't play coy. I've been digging around in everything I could about you. You don't plat just one side, you play them all - why? What are you after?"

"Nothing."

"Ah. See…I know you're lying. I'm figuring your end game is taking down somebody...I just can't figure out who. The good guys? The bad guys? What's the end game? Why not turn all evil mastermind and tell me? You'll be dead before you can finish it anyway."

Ada, amused, met her gaze with a tilted head. "Why still kill me? Purely jealousy? I thought better of you than to murder me over a piece of ass."

Jill had to admit that Leon might object to being known as a piece of ass, although admittedly, he kinda was for Ada.

Jill smiled, a twist of lips, "Who's the piece of ass in this equation? Him? Or you? I can see right through you…those men? The ones who flap around you and yearn for you? They can't see what you are…but I can. For a genius, he's a fucking idiot about women."

Ada's voice was almost amused, "And what am I?"

"Broken." Jill tossed the rock again. "Whatever broke you was big and ugly and awful. You're still plotting that revenge. And Leon? And the rest of the world? Just the price paid for victory. So save me the drama and the rhetoric, and spill the beans. Who's the target? And what's the end game?"

Ada smiled at her, sweetly, "You don't really think I would tell you, do you?"

"Nah. Not really. But it never hurts to ask nicely." Jill pulled her knife and spun it in her hand, "Shall we dispense with the theatrics and get right down to it? I have people to try to save here. I'm sure they're gonna drop a bomb on this city soon enough. God knows that's what they do when things go south."

"Naturally," Ada pulled her knife and twirled it as well, playfully, "I wouldn't be so eager to die though, Ms. Valentine. Not for jealousy."

"It's not jealousy," Jill replied conversationally, "It's absolution. I kill you, I start redeeming myself for all the things I did in the hands of the man you once served."

Ada lifted a brow, they circled a little closer to each other. "Wesker served me...he just didn't know it."

Jill smirked, loving this moment, loving the thrill of it, "Oh? I bet you spread your legs for him the way you do for Leon. I'll just bet Wesker didn't lie on top of you and ask you to be his though...did he? Is that it? You like Leon chasing you like a stupid puppy? Let's take care of that right now and make sure it never happens again."

"You can open your thighs for him all you want, darling, and it won't erase me. I don't care how good you are."

Jill's brows arched, she laughed high and happy, "You think that's what he wants? He could have had that any time, anywhere, from any woman. You don't know him at all, you stupid cow, and that's what's going to lose him for you. Beautiful or not, you can't understand love. It doesn't happen because of sex, Ada, it happens in spite of it. If you wanted to keep him, you should have told him you loved him."

"He's not some simpering woman."

"No...he's a man. Not a toy. Not a machine. A man...and he deserves better than to be dangled off your claws like a fresh kill. Whether you die or not, I'm going to make sure he's done with you. That's how I repay him for what he's done for me. Mark my words, Ada, your rule over his perfect hair is finished."

"Liar." She breathed it, slowly. And it was the first time Jill had ever seen anything real on that beautiful face. It was regret and pain and something worse and ugly and raw. Jill almost felt sorry for her. Then she remembered all the people who had died for Ada's ugly agenda, and she stopped feeling sorry for her.

"That's right. You overplayed your hand. You had him once and let him go because he wanted something you would never give. But you could never hold him and you could never have him. You know why? He's too good for you. I'm gonna help him figure that out."

Ada watched her, quietly. "He was always mine in a way, objectively. Leon suffers from this…darkness. That touches everything around him. It's in his nature to turn toward it. He just as easily could have turned one way as the other in his life. Raccoon City shaped us all, didn't it? And it will remain, if not my greatest regret, then one of my many that he became something else after that night. And I won't stand here in the face of you and say I didn't want him for a variety of reasons. But it changes nothing. What's done is done. I tire of this. You want to get rid of me? Here's your chance."

They both flashed their teeth likes feral cats about to leap. It was the blonde one that lifted her hand, curled it twice, and beckoned.

And the bitch in red who struck first.

Ada rushed her. Just like that.

Anger made Ada stupid or slower or something. She caught a back kick to the chest and went into a flip, sliding out of it across the dirty ground. As she went, Jill divested her of that blade in her hand and braced, rolling the knife in her gloved palm.

It didn't matter, Ada had another one fashioned right into her perfect red heel. She tugged it free and shrugged at Jill's incredulous expression. "A lady must _never _be unarmed."

"I don't see a lady and I wasn't aware anyone took the time to attack whores."

"Well, you'd know darling. You were one for Wesker for years."

"Yeah? That makes two of us."

Ada rushed her again and Jill countered. Their knives slapped against each other, sparking and ringing. She dodged an ankle sweep and threw an elbow. Ada reversed it and kicked her in the back of the knee.

Jill somersaulted forward and flipped to her feet. She eyed the other woman again.

Ada's knife slashed an inch from her belly. She sucked in her stomach and slapped with her other hand. It was degrading for Ada to get slapped right upside the head. Which, really, was the point. Sometimes fighting like a girl was good.

Ada took the slap, spun, and grabbed Jill's arm as she did. She used the momentum to put her hip into the other woman and throw her. Jill went out and rolled into it, she came to her feet with a grimace. She'd torn her knee up on the pavement but otherwise was fine.

"I thought you were good at this, Ada. Wesker was light years better than you."

The next swipe was a series of them. Jill had hit a nerve and was on the offensive. She blocked, ducked, feinted. The knife slashed and stabbed and jarred. It finally got her on the fifth attempt. It sunk into her shoulder. She felt it thrum against the bone. The pain was immediate and awful.

Jill recoiled even as she kicked. Her boot connected with Ada's hip and sent her spinning. The knife remained in her shoulder and throbbed like a bad tooth. Jill lifted her hand and pulled it free. It felt like fire and death in her skin.

Ada flipped backward to avoid a return of that knife in places she didn't want to name.

Jill turned on her with it, prepared to launch it like a dart, and froze.

Ada had a pistol on her.

Jill tilted her head, curious. "So it's like that? Coward."

"You want to play games here, Ms. Valentine, not me. I just want you out of my way."

"So do it, you bitch."

"You call me evil, but what are you? You didn't escape Wesker. You stayed with him. Don't tell me that some of that filth of his didn't leak into you and make you more like me than you were _ever _like Leon."

Jill studied that face that watched. Evil…it had a whole new meaning when you'd played Wesker's puppet for so long. Ada wasn't entirely wrong. But Jill had waited too long to talk it seemed as Ada did again.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Ms. Valentine. It is never personal for me."

Jill saw it. She saw her death on that face. She saw it through a haze of nothing. Nothing. Ada felt nothing about having to kill her. She'd sold some piece of herself to get there. Some part of her that might, once, have been good. She'd done what Leon had been barreling toward, she'd let the darkness win. It was all around her, in her, on her, in her blood. It bred and made madness where it touched. She was sane, god yes, but she was lost. And she would do what she'd set out to do and crush those beneath her to do it.

"Don't miss, Ada."

"I never do."

And the gun went off.

Two of them.

Jill waited to feel her death. But there was nothing.

From the top of the rise, neither of them had remembered the other player in this little drama. Neither had remembered to expect to be interrupted. But the echo of gunfire was loud and reverberating. Jill looked down to see if she was shot and realized she wasn't…but Ada Wong was.

She stumbled back with one hand slapped against her shoulder.

Jill looked up at the pile of rubble above them. He was something to see standing there. His face was lit by shadows and silver, his expression was a nearly palpable kind of rage that somehow, someway, worked on him. It made you stand there and stare, for just a minute, and forget what you'd been doing before. He looked...kinda badass. It was a curious thing to have seen him at his most vulnerable and to see him now - and try somehow to equate the two.

His hair caught in the wind. He aimed without flinching, his hands encased in those tactical gloves that somehow were buttery soft. On top of the rise, he wasn't a hero - he was a man without a country and nothing to lose.

Ada said, "Leon…long time, no see."

"Yeah, I've been busy. Trying to stop people from selling B.O.W.S. like dogs."

Ada didn't even flinch with guilt. She lifted a brow. "Yet you brought your dog with you to play, Leon."

Leon lifted a brow. He didn't take his eyes off Ada. He asked, "Jill? You ok?"

Jill kept her hand over the weeping wound in her shoulder. "Well, I've been better..been worse too..hella…so this is really about halfway to shitty."

Ada lowered her gun. Leon said, "Yeah. Good idea. Get on the ground, Ada. Now."

"You know I won't come quietly. So why bother?"

"You make this mess?"

He moved down the rubble and came toward her.

"You know I didn't."

He stopped, watching her.

"We ever gonna talk about that night, Leon?" She smiled so sweetly it made your teeth hurt.

He laughed sarcastically and grunted, "Any time but now."

"Hmm," Ada pouted, prettily, "You're mad at me." She studied him and decided,"..suits you."

"Cut the coy flirtation, Ada, nobody here is interested. Wanna tell me what you want here?"

"Hmm...is that an invitation?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not anymore. You burned that bridge and left it smoking. What are you doing here? Stalking me?"

Ada fairly sparkled with joy, "Oh...you wish. Don't flatter yourself, Leon, I'm not here for you at all."

He snorted, "No? Then what? I don't think there's anyone here for you to torture."

Jill moved toward her AK47 and Ada tracked her. She knew she was on borrowed time here. Leon wouldn't kill her, but Jill Valentine might. "My job, Leon. You know all about that." She wiggled her arm and looked down at skinny vest she wore that doubled as a tank top beneath her torn suit jacket, "...you missed. That wouldn't have killed me even without the armor."

"...no, I didn't."

And Ada laughed beautifully, "See, Jill? Still mine after all." She stuck her arm up with the grapple gun in it as Leon laughed.

"I'm a hard man to keep."

"So they say. And yet..." She studied Jill thoughtfully, "I think you might be easier than I gave you credit for. Is it the fragile thing that does it, Leon? Do you like how broken she is? One mess...deserves another."

"If I liked messes, Ada, I'd still be chasing you."

She flashed a beautiful smile as Jill grabbed her AK47 and spun around, "Aren't you?" Ada hit the trigger on the grapple gun and it whipped her up into the moonlight as Jill hit the trigger on the assault rifle and nearly blew off her legs.

Leon grabbed the muzzle and shoved it down, barking, "Jill! Goddamnit!"

And Ada cooed, "Quick word of warning...this city will be purged soon!"

She was gone into the night as Leon jerked the assault rifle form Jill's hands and she followed it up by shoving him. "You let her go!"

"I know!"

"No..." Jill shoved him again and he stumbled, "You let her _go_! SHE TRIED TO KILL ME!"

He grabbed Jill's arm to stop the assault against him and hissed, "I wasn't going to let her do that. I was watching you. I stepped in when you needed me to."

Jill's eyes flashed like dinner plates of blue in her face. "...you _what_!?"

Leon tossed her arm aside, "I knew she'd just play games with me if I interceded too soon. I needed to know what she was after. Your taunting and fighting and snarking...it got her talking. Really talking. I had to know what she was about."

Jill stared at him until he barked, "What?! What is that look!?"

"...you risked my life for her."

He shook his head, brow knitting, "Wait...what?"

"You risked my life for her. You wanted to listen to her, you wanted to know how she really felt about you...so you let her try to kill me."

Ok. In fairness, he could kind of see how it might look like that, but he rushed to explain, "No. No, I didn't. I don't care about that shit. I don't care if she's painting my name in a shrine in her bedroom, Jill. I don't care if she has a body pillow of me that she humps into oblivion every night. That's irrelevant. I need to know what her agenda is."

Jill shoved a hand flat against his chest so hard he staggered a little. "You son of a bitch...you want to play spy with your girlfriend, you go right ahead, but you do it on your own fucking time. You're my partner, Kennedy, my _partner! _You get my back like one...or get the hell outta my way. You risk my life again like that and I don't care what that fucking collar does when you go, I'll take you out myself."

He grabbed her arm again when she turned away from him and commanded, "You want to be pissed and jealous, fine. But you were never at risk. I would never have let it get that far."

Jill gave him a withering glare, "Yeah? For which one of us? Her or me?"

She shoved him back again while he glared back, "Yeah. Fuck you too. You don't have to say it, honey, it's all over your face. She was too recently, right?"

"...take a deep breath, sweetheart, and remember who the hell was over here taunting her like a red flag to a bull. You wanna risk your life, you're free to do that, but don't jump all over my ass when I save it. You said you could handle yourself. Now you want me to save you?" He laughed harshly, "Make up your goddamn mind."

Jill went to slap him and he caught her other wrist and jerked her forward as she hissed, "You used me!"

"Well, shit, honey I guess now we're even."

Her eyes swelled with tears and made him curse. He let go of her, "Goddamnit, Jill, we don't have time for this now. Are you alright?"

Her voice quivered, "I'm fine. Let go of my hands so I can slap the shit out of you."

She started to jerk away and he let go of her hands.

"I hate you for trying to save me. You should have let me rot where you found me."

They glared at each other and he snapped, "Shut up...you stupid woman. Just...shut the hell up."

Her chest seized with pain. She hated that he'd used her to get information from Ada. She hated even more that he'd let Ada go. She couldn't understand what kept him tied to that bitch. She was nothing but a puppet-master tugging him on her strings. So she vowed, "I'm gonna enjoy killing your bitch, you heartless asshat."

He grabbed her by the front of her skinny jacket and almost dragged her into the light. Jill slapped at his hands and he told her, roughly, "I need to treat your shoulder, you waspy tongued witch. Or do you want to die of gangrene being stubborn?"

She gave him a filthy look but let him tear off a piece of his shirt to bind it and put pressure on the wound. His voice was hard as he asked, "How's the movement? It doesn't look like she got too much of you, but it's still deep."

Jill returned, shaking with anger, "I'm fine. Don't worry. Your girlfriend isn't good enough to get the job done."

He shook his head. When she started to move, he gripped her arm above the elbow to hold her and urged, "Be pissed. Be jealous. Be insolent and childish. But understand me when I tell you this -don't be stupid here, Jill. Ada? She was trained by some of the best in the world. She's not just good, she'll wipe the floor with you. She was playing with you tonight. Don't ever, ever, ever underestimate her."

Jill drilled a finger into his chest, "You have no idea what I can do. None. Don't _you _underestimate _me. _Next time I see your girlfriend? I'm gonna make sure I return the favor six inches to the right and straight through her black heart. We'll find out if evil really never dies."

She shoved him back from her.

Leon cursed angrily and tossed her away from him so that she staggered almost growling, "Jealousy is gonna get you killed here, Jill."

"Yeah? At least I won't die a cuck. You better hope like hell there's still someone around who gives a shit about you when she burns your world down around your goddamn ears."

Jill hurried away up the incline as if she'd go back to the church. Leon licked his teeth and shook his head. He didn't have to say the next part out loud for it to be clear as day too. There would always be one thing in his life drove him to the brink of madness:...women.


	24. Nope: Part2: Chap 6

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Two:**

**-Where the Wild Things Are-**

* * *

**Chapter Six: Start Running**

* * *

**Winter**

**-January 2nd, 2012-**

**Holifgrad, Eastern Slav Republic**

* * *

The tolling bells signaled the church they'd left was likely under attack. Running faster, Leon felt the panic settle into his throat. This was why he was better off alone, he thought madly, caring about anything was the death of a good agent.

Those children in that church were innocent. They were gentle and good and in need of someone to protect them. The rebels had used monsters to make a stand against the government and neither side had considered the fallout.

The second they rushed the corner toward the alley, he threw his arm out to stop Jill. They skidded and stared for a moment at the horror. The church was three deep with ganado. Jill grabbed his arm and whispered, horrified, "Oh my god...the children."

He swallowed the panic and shot his eyes around the dark. She watched him formulate a plan on the spot. He gestured to the fire escape ladder that dangled off the side of the old stone. With a shake of his head, he quipped, "I guess it's time for _me _to play Santa Claus."

Jill rolled her eyes and remarked, "Hopefully you're better at it than your girlfriend was."

She ducked under his arm and swung her rifle onto her back as she boosted herself up to top of a heavy shipping container. They leaped and rolled and picked their way across the divide between them and the church. The ganados were too busy trying to break into the church to notice.

It was a pretty good distance from the roof they were on to the ladder on the wall. Leon turned toward Jill and told her, "I'll toss you. I'll be right behind you. Go up and get into that church." He turned and put his back to the opening.

She nodded, he dropped his hands into a cradle, and she threw her boot into it so he could launch her over the gap to the wall. She flew with ease, caught the ladder part of the way up and started climbing. Leon backed up, inhaled sharply, and started running.

His boots pushed, his body propelled, and he grabbed wildly for the ladder. His hands caught it as his body smacked roughy into the rusty steel. It groaned, Jill joked, "Take it easy on the cheeseburgers there, tubby."

And his legs dangled down into the hungry beneath him. He kicked, trying to grab and leverage himself up. One grabbed for his pants, Leon stuck a boot into his head instead, and used the top of it to push himself up the ladder.

To the Ganado, he punned, "Thanks for the heads up!"

Jill was already tucking into the balcony area of the church. The moment he joined her, he heard the screaming.

In all his life, he'd never forget the screaming. It was high and loud. The cacophonous echo around the stone Goliath made it seems like it permeating every corner of the old church.

He and Jill split up to take opposite sides of the balcony and head for the main floor.

Leon caught the balcony rail and heaved himself over it by throwing his legs out to the side. He landed in a roll, came up on one knee, and obliterated the two ganado that ran at him in a mad rush. Jill, from the balcony, covered him against the one that tried for his back.

J.D. was shoving a body off him on the floor. Leon shouted as he ran. "The children!? Where are the children!?"

J.D. wildly waved to the far door into the church nursery. Later, he'd think it was a monster that roared when the door was kicked down. It wasn't; it was him. The gun went off in a chatter of sound as Jill reached the main floor and joined him.

She froze as she cleared the door.

She didn't even lift her gun.

There was no need.

There was nothing left alive in the nursery. The walls were painted red with blood and chunks of the dead. The floor was strewn with twitching pieces of mutated plagas. A woman had died trying to save the children, but she'd had her throat torn out as if it were nothing.

And the children...

Jill's eyes couldn't make sense of it at first. It was a scatter of body parts and macabre horror. It was fingers and toes and terror. It was the stuff of nightmares. They'd turned, at some point, some of those wonderful children. They'd turned and attacked each other.

The silence was broken only by a guttural whimpering.

Near the office, a tiny foot below the hem of a dirty dress drew her eye.

Jill was frozen, inert, flashing back on all the things she'd seen, all the children she'd buried, all the bodies she'd left her wake. She couldn't move as Leon stepped forward through the mess and crouched. His hand touched the blonde curls turned pink with blood.

The little girl was gasping. Her hands grabbed for him. Her eyes searched his face for what? For what? Help? Hope?

Those same eyes spilled tears of blood down cheeks gone gray with infection. The parasite was taking her away. The parasite...it never lost. Leon gripped her by the back of the neck as the little girl gasped something in that heavy Slavic tongue. She wept blood on the floor in a red river.

She wept against his chest as he pulled her up, up, and held her against him. Her hands clutched madly at his back, she sobbed and soaked his chest in bloody regret. His arm shifted quick and merciless behind her.

And the gasp was high and loud. It silenced the sobbing in a single moment. She gurgled.

Her eyes stopped being bulging and scared. Her breath stopped chopping. And those eyes fixed and dilated on Jill where she stood by the door.

The horrible, horrible, horrible sound that followed wasn't the little girl - it was him. He was breathing sharp and harsh. He tugged the knife from the back of that delicate skull and laid the little girl on the floor in her own blood. He rose, his back to Jill, and she heard him actively slow his reaction.

He wiped the blade of that knife on his leg and turned toward her. The assault rifle on his back clunked against his belt as he moved toward Jill smeared with the blood of that lost little girl. She knew, she didn't need him to say it, that he was seeing Sherry everywhere he looked right now.

Jill tried, desperately, to find the words that would comfort him. His face...she'd never seen him look that way. It was the face of a man without hope, one who no longer had anything left to lose.

She thought he might speak. He crouched and picked up the little doll beside the door. His hand closed around and squeezed. She wanted, desperately, to put a hand on his back and comfort him or let him know he wasn't alone.

Tremulously, she touched his shoulder. His free hand lifted and seized hers, putting a vice on her fingers that didn't hurt but made it clear he was grateful. She thought he might say something.

Instead, he rose and passed by her without a word.

She hurried after him to find J.D. thrusting the vest forward, "Take it! Please! I don't need it anymore."

Leon took it from him and tugged Matilda from it before he tossed it at Jill. He didn't have to say anything else, she just belted it on to avoid his commands. His voice was low and dragging, "You said you'd protect them."

"I tried!" J.D. looked so crushed, so broken, so ruined that Jill felt a shiver of sympathy for him.

Apparently, it wasn't shared by Leon.

"You should have tried harder!" She shivered. His voice echoed in a way that would have made her cower if she'd been the limit man facing him. J.D. did, hands lifted. He lifted the gun on the man and Jill watched that thing she'd seen in the vineyard descend on him. Some kind of cloak of murder that made it easy to stare down the barrel of a gun and pull the trigger.

J.D. shouted, "GOOD! END ME! _PLEASE_!"

The door to the church was thrown open and Buddy came through with his gun raised. It was all going to go south, very, very quickly. The sounds of a war picked up in a crescendo outside the church. They could hear the bombs and the destruction.

The ceiling shivered and rained chunks of once beautiful mural around them in dusty trickles. No one spoke a single word.

Finally, Buddy growled, "Look what you've done to my people!" He raised his weapon.

Leon took Matilda off of J.D. and aimed it at Buddy in return. His tone was so cold Jill checked to be sure she didn't freeze on the spot when he spoke, "Give me the plagas."

Buddy shook his head, "It's too late for that. I have to win this war. I_ will _stop them from k-"

Leon's gun went off. Jill covered her eyes and J.D. whimpered in fear as the wall beside Buddy burst in a splatter of stone. The heavy round had struck an inch from his left ear. "I don't give a fuck about your war. I don't care about your goddamn rebellion. The only way you leave this church alive is if you give me the plagas."

Buddy shook his head, angrily, "You think I fear death!? They've already taken everything! We _must _win this war! We must! Or they all died for nothing! I will protect them! I will make that sacrifice so that they live it is what I swore an oath to!"

"YOU ALREADY FAILED THEM!" Dear god that shouting of his. Jill slapped a hand to her chest to start her heart that stopped. J.D. looked like he might cower behind the altar from it. There was nothing in the world like Leon Kennedy shouting, "They're dead because of you, you stupid bastard! You went after the plagas and left them to die! You aren't a patriot, you're a power mongering piece of shit like those you're fighting against. What you released into this city has destroyed it!"

Buddy took a hard step forward, "We had no choice! Without the B.O.W.S. even the handful of us that are left would be gone! I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO!"

"I don't give a fuck about your cause! You left those children to die by your own mistakes! Give me the goddamn plagas so I can watch you die like they did."

"There's that American greed we here so much about...you just want it for yourself!" Buddy hiked the rifle on his shoulder higher, "You only stepped in when you knew we had something that you wanted! You left us here to DIE until then!"

"Not me, you worthless bastard, you. You promised to protect them and got them killed instead. We both know exactly who's to blame here."

Buddy snarled, "SHUT UP! YOU STUPID FOOL!"

Jill shifted and put her self between Buddy and Leon. She pressed her back against him and Leon snapped, "Move! You think I need some woman to protect me?"

Jill rolled her eyes, "I think I have the vest on and you're practically begging this man to kill you."

Buddy warned her, "Move! I don't want to hurt you! But your husband's time is done here! J.D. shoot him from behind!"

J.D. gasped, "DON'T! He's good, Buddy! He's good! He can help! It's your last chance to stop them! Please! P-"

And he coughed.

He gagged.

He grunted and staggered and hunched over at the waist. Both guns swung around to him instead. Jill's came up as Leon stepped out from behind her and J.D. collapsed to all fours. He gasped. He grunted. His face turned gray and he shouted, "Forgive me!"

Buddy bellowed, "J.D. NO!"

The little man with the love of America wasn't there anymore. He rose with red eyes and hunger, he took off toward Jill with a slobbering snarl, and Leon put him down with a heavy round through the side of his temple. It blew apart his head and splattered Buddy in chunks of brain and bone.

J.D. went down on his face, still.

Leon, face hard, said quietly, "He'd have liked America."

Buddy raised his gun on Leon and Jill had had enough. She kicked toward the other man's knee, he staggered and Jill divested him of his gun as he went to the floor from it cursing.

She turned this own gun on him and commanded, "Give us the plaga."

On his hands and knees, Buddy spat, "I _can't! _Don't you get it? It's too _late __for that!"_

The damage was finally on them. The roof gave with a crushing explosion of sound as something broke through the old church like a wrecking ball. Chunks of stone as big as a man began to full around them. Leon shouted, above the din, "YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Buddy had used the distraction of the chaos to make his escape. Jill shoved Leon's chest so hard he staggered and demanded, "NO TIME FOR THAT NOW! FORGET HIM! MOVE!"

They rushed together jumping and sliding and missing their own death smashed into the tiles that turned to rubble beneath them. As they ran, Jill thought it was nothing next to what Leon Kennedy would do to this city to avenge a couple of dirty children he'd barely known.

* * *

He didn't speak. He didn't speak for so long she was half convinced he was done for, that he couldn't or wouldn't come back from it. He stopped in the cover of a building, eased into the opening and lit a cigarette. She hadn't known he'd had those on him either. He was a wizard of pockets in that skinny leather jacket her wore.

His hands shook.

It was the only sign he gave that he wasn't completely dead inside. His face was just a scowl above a tired set of beautiful eyes. In the rising dawn, they were sea foam - a color stranded somewhere between surf and sky. Feeling poetic, Jill spoke first into the silence, "Give me one of those."

She put one of the nasty things between her lips and inhaled, sharply.

When he stared into the rising sun, she watched his profile. He'd never be a man who could just let it go. Those children would haunt him for the rest of his life. His complete desolation made her ache inside as he said brokenly, "...children can't turn."

The smoke wafted away into the cold. She finally returned, "...what?"

He laughed and it sounded like breaking glass, "...children can't turn. They can't. The parasite just...destroys them. Something came in there and killed them and tried to turn them and tore them apart."

Jill eased, quietly, "...you couldn't have stopped it."

Now he radiated with finely spun, nearly savage rage, "Yes, I could! I could! Don't you understand? _This? _This is what I do! It's all I _can _do! And instead of being there for those goddamn children I was running around some parking garage playing fetch! I'm a dog, Jill, a government dog...and not even a good one! A good dog _PROTECTS!"_

He was so angry. His shout made a couple of crows take flight on the roof above them with a caw of disturbed bitching. Her hand lifted and settled over his mouth. She told him, coolly, "...I know. Ok? I _know. _But you cannot stand here roaring to the heavens. You can't. You'll get us both killed. If you're dead, you can't help anyone. Do you hear me? You have to stop blaming yourself. You have to. Now."

The despair on him almost broke her heart and there was no time for it. Not here; not now. He didn't have time to grieve those children. He needed a fucking hug, she knew it. She couldn't offer it. She couldn't. If she did, she'd fall apart too and then they'd both stand in the bitter cold choking on regret.

Her hand slid away from his mouth. She stepped back from him. She wanted to lean in and kiss him, but that wouldn't help anyone. It was a mess with them and inside them both. She couldn't do anything but push him on, even if he wanted to give up. She was awful at rousing speeches. She'd never been good at rallying the morale of the troops for battle. That was Chris.

Jill did her best to comfort him anyway, "This isn't your fault."

He said nothing.

She gripped his arm and tried again, "Kennedy -look at me."

His silence was so painful. She tried one last time, "Leon?"

Softly. It was gentle, her voice, like the rise of the light over a city turned dark in defeat. His gaze shifted and so did her hand. She cupped his chin in her hand and told him, "This isn't your fault."

When he started to remove his chin, she held tighter and almost demanded, "...say it back to me and I will let you go."

So, he did that too, "...this isn't your fault."

Jill gave him a look like you might an errant child. He smiled sadly, "...best I got, kid."

She paused, hesitated, then leaned in a little. He smelled like copper and scotch and cigarettes. It shouldn't have been good - but somehow it was just that. Under all that, he smelled like regret. She gave up on resisting the impulse of it and leaned toward him. He made some sound and lowered his head to let her. Her mouth touched to his, softly, and she drew back to say, "...me too. Stay with me, ok? I need you."

Damn.

She knew just what to say to make sure he did.

Clever minx.

She let go of him. He watched her go into the sun and took a heavy breath. He'd failed those children, but he'd be damned if he failed her too.

* * *

The sun crept over the horizon as they tried to avoid the fallout of what appeared the government attempting to smoke out the rebels by destroying their suspected base of operations. They crossed through alleys until they came to the enormous courtyard outside the Capital Building. It was saturated with death.

The beekeeper truck was sitting among the ruins of dead soldiers with that satirical smiling face slashed open beneath the tilt of its mouth to show wicked death. The B.O.W.S. contained within it had been set free to destroy the army stopping the rebels from infiltrating the strong hold of the ESR's government. It had laid waste to more than a hundred men without mercy.

Lickers lay blasted into bloody pieces beside gutted bodies and assault vehicles turned on their sides still smoking and spinning wheels. As they stepped, gingerly around the dead, Jill said softly, "...Jesus Christ...we can't let this happen."

Leon glanced down at a face of a dead soldier turned up and half draped out of his ruined vehicle. He'd died disemboweled by the licker that was missing half its head atop him. He'd died, but he'd taken it with him.

He shook his head and grumbled, "...this is how it ends. If we don't stop this, now...this is how it ends for the world. You think it stops with lickers? They'll grow bigger, faster, better monsters and set them loose on the key points of power in the world. They'll take out Israel and China, they'll come after the mother country of Russia herself...and then they'll set their collective sights on America. All the money and all the soldiers in the world can't stop them if they die and rise again on the wrong side."

Jill, risking it, lowered her weapon to one hand and touched his arm with the other. His angry gaze shifted to her and she soothed, "We won't let that happen. Alright? That's why we stayed here, right? So let's go find the source and make sure it never gets beyond this country."

He nodded and turned, hurrying through the desolate courtyard without another word. She tracked him, moving swiftly until they ducked under the shattered doorway of the furthest wing of the building and into a long hallway. The grumble of thunder accompanied the soft splash of boots in blood.

It was a battle turned slaughter in the hallway too. They'd lost painfully to the lickers even with assault weapons. The corpses were smeared on the ground as if a child had used them as chalk to make a horrible picture. There were splashes of it dripping down the walls and dropping in fat plops from the ceiling where they'd been tossed and smacked and smashed into the surfaces by whipping tongues of monsters.

Jill's boot slipped through gutted intestines and she gagged without meaning to.

The second she did, there was a skittering sound above them. As if in a bad horror movie, her eyes turned up, up, up and found they weren't alone in the foggy darkness. The rain started to pound down on the stone as a tongue whipped the air two inches from her face.

Leon's hand caught her elbow. He eased her back and away. They shifted as soundlessly as possible.

Lickers were terribly dangerous hunters, but they were totally blind. They used sound like a bat with sonar. The slightly noise would spell your death. They were so fast. There was no way to out run one, only one chance to out gun one, and no match from a person who'd never faced one to even begin to understand how they moved.

They were almost to the far side of the hallway in absolute silence, the noises of their boots hidden beneath the heavy pound of the rain above them, when one of the bodies on the ground grabbed for Jill's boot and gasped, gurgled, groaned and gave those lickers the target they'd been waiting for.

Leon kicked the hand off her boot and told the dying man, "Sorry...can't stick around and give you a hand. Got places to be."

Jill was already racing for the far door. The lickers did their warbling shriek and started scuttling like crabs alone the stone, racing toward the joy of the slaughter. The poor man left behind was ended with a fast swipe of claws and the wet plop of a head cleaved from its shoulder and Jill shouted, "LEON!"

He ducked, she blasted the one in the air leaping for him six inches from his head, and he spun to fire over his shoulder to finish it off as it flipped.

The second one gave chase where it's brother had died valiantly. It landed. It squealed. Jill jerked the door on the far corrider wall and threw herself through with Leon a step behind her.

There were reasons he was the best at what he did. She was airborne over a great job into nothing for a whole second before gravity got the better of her and she started to plummet. Leon managed to snatch the doorknob and hit the wall and dangle and Jill grabbed wildly for his leg as she went down. She'd already fallen once to her death, she'd be _damned _if she went out that way again.

She lost her gun, but she got his left boot with both hands. He shouted, "FUCKING CHRIST! HOLD ON!"

That shouting. It echoed down that cavernous drop like a grenade.

The licker, squealing, leaped into the air the second Leon dangled. It was suspended, in a bad move moment, before it plummeted, screeching madly, toward its demise at the bottom of the elevator shaft.

Leon's dangling hand threw down to Jill, the licker whipped that wild tongue at her and looped it twice around her ankle as it fell, and they had all the time in the world it seemed to stare at each other in horror before it ripped her free of him.

He made a wild grab for her anyway, roaring, "NO! GRAB MY HAND!"

Their fingers passed over each other and down she went into the dark as he shouted so loud it hurt his own ears as it echoed, "JILL! NO! _NO_!"

Her scream was loud and high and terrified, her name bounced through the dark around her as she fell, and Leon's hand grabbed for his watch wildly. He hit the release on the distance restrictor in the collar. He didn't know how far down it was, but just in case...he didn't want her being socked to death the second she passed too far from him.

She shouted his name as she plummeted and made his heart seize so hard he was dizzy. Her voice would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He dangled.

There was nothing but horror with him in that elevator shaft.

The smell of old mold and water told him that it had once been access to the mines they'd likely found themselves in when the madness started and he couldn't stop it. He'd been at this so long he _knew _better...but he did it anyway while the fear tried to saw it's way through his throat and his body just dangled on the doorknob like a broken puppet.

"..._JILLLLL_!"

Her name echoed back at him. Jill. Jill. Jill. Jill. Jill.

But the only thing left in that darkness was him...and the truth that he'd failed everyone who needed him after all.


	25. No Hope: Part 2: Chap 7

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Two:**

**-Where the Wild Things Are-**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Into the Hive**

* * *

**Winter**

**-January 3rd, 2012-**

**Holifgrad, Eastern Slav Republic**

* * *

The smell of formaldehyde was almost as annoying as the ringing in her ears.

Jill felt the throbbing in her left temple as she roused.

What the hell was wrong with her anyway? Why was she so sore?

After a handful of seconds, she remembered why. She'd taken a nose dive down a dark elevator shaft toward death. She groaned and finally forced her eyes open. She was dangling face down over the ground. The vest Leon had forced her to wear had snagged on the side of the shaft and kept her suspended. The licker had plummeted to its disgusting demise below her in a splatter of blood and exposed muscle.

Jill groaned in pain and spit, watching the loogie plummet in a swirling plop and make a sound like a clap as it struck the dead monster beneath her. She added a very tired, "...douche."

That's what it got for trying to take it with it into an untimely death.

However, Jill was currently suspended above the ground in a way that would equal broken bones if the vest was to release her to finish her fall. The strap had looped over a jutting piece of support beam. Apparently, the luck of angels had followed her down the second attempt at the universe to splatter her all over the pavement in death.

Her hand slid against the wall and found an out cropping. If she was as careful as cat in a room full of rocking chairs, she could climb down and finish with a little jump. It was dangerous, but so was waiting for the vest to release and turn her into a Jill pizza on the ground.

She grumped, "Sandwich...pizza...why am I always food?"

Her mind said: _Because you taste sooo good girl!_

UGH.

She'd been around Kennedy too much. She was punning _in her own head. _It was embarrassing.

She thought about calling up to him, but she had no clue how far she'd fallen. She had no clue if danger lurked beyond the corpse of the thing that had tried to kill her. What if bellowing his name got her killed by another?

She was going to avoid an ironic or stupid death for as long as possible.

So she started carefully climbing down the rest of the shaft.

It was slow going, but she managed to leap off at the bottom and avoid face planting on the nasty dead licker. She stood for a moment with her head tilted staring at the thing in front of her. It was...a tower? It was something. It was glowing and lit in a zig zag pattern. It was a strange thing to have under a capital building, but in fairness, not the strangest thing she'd ever found underground.

Turns out - bad guys dealing in B.O.W.S. hardly ever had a nice set of in-laws quarters beneath their nefarious playgrounds.

Jill discovered her rifle had not survived the fall as well as she had. It was a shattered mess of twisted metal beneath the dead licker. She sighed and tugged the knife from the front of Leon's vest. The hilt was heavy and well balanced.

She had no doubt he knew how to throw it. She'd seen him kill a man at the vineyard like that. Holding it at her side, Jill eased toward the opening in the thing that resembled an enormous beehive.

She paused. She remembered the dead man in the garage. Beekeeper.

Beehive.

Softly, she intoned, "...fuck."

The government was breeding plagas in their basement.

Not just the rebels - nope -the whole country was a fucking disaster.

She slipped into the hive and found it was full of tiny compartments with plagas in them. The computer console wouldn't let her access a damn thing so she tapped a finger on the clear case containing one of the ugly things and it wiggled like a pissed off piece of rabutan fruit. It had wiggling little tentacles and a fat red outer shell over its spongey core.

There was a clunk of sound and Jill slid against the wall into a shadow as footsteps accompanied the arrival of another person into the hive.

Not a guard. Nope.

A spy.

Jill thrust the knife into her before Ada finished moving. She took it right in the back of her left shoulder before she could completely leap aside. Her shout echoed as Jill spat, "That's for earlier, bitch!"

And Jill Valentine became the first person in the world to get the drop on Ada Wong.

She jerked the knife free, Ada swung her elbow and missed her face by and inch, and Jill dropped low and pummeled her fist into her exposed side. The spy gasped and recoiled, Jill went in for an upward swipe with the knife, and Ada spun a roundhouse to click the blade clean out of her hands. She went into a double back flip as Jill raced for the knife and cooed, "That's too big for you, girl! It takes a real woman to handle Leon's knife!"

Cunt.

Jill slid on her side as if she were trying to go under a door lowering and grabbed the knife. Ada came right for her and the knife swished as the spy sucked in her belly, caught Jill's wrist, and jerked her forward. She followed it up with a clean elbow to the face, a jerk of Jill's arm, and a kick to the hip to send the blonde stumbling.

As Jill reversed, spitting blood on the ground from her busted lip, Ada cautioned. "Don't be stupid. I don't want to kill you like this."

Surprised, Jill stopped for a moment, "Why?"

Ada smiled at her, delicately, "He'll never forgive me if I do. I need to do it in a way that makes you look...guilty."

Jill lifted her voice in a laugh, "You slippery witch...you want to what? Make me the bad guy?"

"Why not? It would put him back in my hands."

Jill narrowed her eyes at the other woman, "He's not a fucking ball of silly putty."

"Isn't the? He's just as malleable."

She hiked the knife in her hand and swung. Jill blocked it with both wrists under Ada's to push it up and away and kicked from the hip to get the other woman to recoil. As Ada arched her back to miss a kick to the stomach, Jill jerked on her wrists and slung her out and away. She had to roll to miss a return swipe to the side as the other woman countered.

She had to admit. Ada moved smooth and quick. She knew what she was doing.

The spy threw her leg out and swirled trough it fluidly, forcing Jill to retreat into a back hand spring and go on the offensive. The knife came at her as she landed, she barely missed losing an eye, and she punched Ada clean in the groin for it. The other woman absorbed the blow, threw an elbow behind her to get inside the attack zone, and Jill took the hit to the face to jerk the other woman's wrists down and out and kick the knife from her hand at the same time.

The knife clattered to the floor, Ada drove a clean punch into her sternum and Jill staggered back to get a nicely slung roundhouse thrown at her face. She barely got her arms up to block it and Ada was already down and swirling through a sweep. It took her legs out and put Jill on her back as Ada rolled for the knife.

Jill kicked her in the face before she could sling around and wield it.

It echoed in the beehive.

The spy slashed from the floor, ripped a nice line right across Jill's pants, and kicked from her in the thigh to push the blonde off course. As Jill turned to avoid the knife in her belly, Ada flipped to her feet and kicked her in the chest for it. The vest took the impact, but Jill went down against the console with a blare of alarm from the machine. Ada came in for a killing blow and Jill swept the knife to the side to let it stab straight into the beehives control center. Electricity crackled, Ada swung her elbow up and hit Jill again in her already tender mouth, and Jill took the back of the spy's head to smack it into the beeping control console.

Somebody shouted as Ada tackled her around the middle and spun around her at the same time. Jill couldn't stop the spy from sliding between her legs and jerking on her hips. Jill went down onto her back, Ada rolled over the top of her and straddled her, and Jill's arms barely got up to stop another brutal punch to the face. She arched her hips, hooked her legs over the other woman, and jerked.

Ada went down with a grunt, they rolled over the floor like wrestlers, and Jill lost to find herself in a choke hold on her knees. Ada squeezed so hard it made her vision turn red and informed her, "In about eight seconds, you're gonna pass out. When that happens, I'll take that knife you tried to kill me with and stab myself in some part of me that isn't going to do more than bleed alot. He'll find us, the poor thing, and me the survivor of a vicious attack by a crazed psychotic that had a breakdown upon seeing the plagas that had been all over Africa during her captivity with Wesker."

Jill struggled as Ada cooed in her ear, "I had no choice, Leon...I had to stop her. She was insane. She would have hit the button to release all the plagas in the hive. She would have released them all to destroy this city. She didn't know what she was doing. She wasn't Jill Valentine anymore...psychosis is a _bitch, _isn't it, Jill?"

Gagging, Jill gasped, "...and so am I."

Her arm reversed under Ada's groin and went right between her legs. Before the spy could expect it, Jill punched upward into her crotch. It was so hard and such a low blow, that the other woman released her pressure enough that Jill could shift her mouth and bite down as hard as she could into the other woman's hands. Ada shrieked, she reared back and slapped Jill like any girl would in the middle of a fight, and Jill kicked her feet out from under Ada as she spun away.

As Ada staggered, Jill taunted, "...I guess there's no power in that pussy after all."

Ada rolled over the ground, Jill saw what she as after too late and dove for the knife, and the spy grabbed it first. She jerked it out of the console, rolled up and back to miss the kick Jill threw over her head, and went right into a flip. As she came down, she threw her shoulder forward and released the knife with it.

A handful of seconds for it all to happen, maybe less.

The heavy clang of metal made them both jump as the knife went spinning with a spark of metal into the room and hit the floor. Apparently, it had been blasted out of the sky like something out of a video game.

The Lone Ranger wasn't standing there, but Kennedy was and his face was almost ghost pale with rage.

"Ada...give me one good reason why the next one shouldn't finish the job I did on your vest."

She rolled her lips up into a smile and a voice joined the party. "...I thought I would find you here."

Heavily accented, she sounded Russian. She was pretty, blonde, and escorted by now less than twenty soldiers in green and gray. They fanned out around her as she entered the beehive.

Ada returned, rising, "Did you have your amateurs tie me up like that on purpose?"

The other blonde smiled slyly and Ada laughed, "Clever bitch. Look out kids, she's not just a pretty face."

"I should say the same. What do you expect to find here?"

Ada shrugged as both Leon and Jill ranged themselves on either side of her with their hands up. "The truth. You've been a bad girl, Svetlana, you've been making dirty weapons under the eye of the Russian and United States government. Ballsy..._stupid..._but ballsy."

Svetlana shrugged. "And necessary." She turned her gaze to Leon, "Who are you?"

Ada, without missing a beat, chirped, "He's a U.S. government agent."

Leon couldn't stop the laughter. It was a burst of air out of his lungs, "...bitch...now that we've got _that _out of the way..."

Svetlana turned her gaze to Jill, "What about this one?"

Ada told her, "That one is a member of the rebels. Obviously."

The soldiers were fanned out around the circular room. They were covered with heavy artillery on every side. Ada was either stupid or up to something with the taunting. So Leon laughed, "...say what?"

And Ada hit the console with her fists.

The lights went out.

The gun fire started.

It was mayhem.

There was shouting and the snap and pop of light as guns sparked and went off. Bullets struck with thuds and screams. Crouched in the dark by the door, Jill watched the stupid fools take each other down trying to kill them.

She had a moment of panic because she couldn't find Leon in the fray and the lights came back on as someone bellowed to cease fire. There was guns smoke and bodies and blood everywhere.

Leon had Svetlana at gun point standing with her arms up and Matilda shoved against her spine.

He told her, "Back up, now. Slowly. Jill?"

Jill hurried over to take the rifle off his shoulder and aim it at the men. Svetlana sighed, "Do you know who I am?"

He shrugged, "I'm guessing the beekeeper."

She scoffed, "I'm the president, you fool."

And he returned, "Not mine, sweetheart."

Jill kept her gun on the men left in the beehive as Svetlana swung her elbow around at his face. It was an interesting moment. She'd never actually seen him grapple with anyone but her like that.

He reversed and rolled and tucked and blocked. Svetlana was just that much faster than him. He looked impressed as he grabbed for her and she slipped free, rolled over his back, and hooked arms with him to throw him away from her. He came back swift and ready, drove a knee toward her stomach, and the slippery bitch caught his leg under his knee and thigh and just...tossed him.

He flipped up and out, landed and rolled through it to one knee, and actually looked a little smitten with the evil bitch that ran the corrupt country trying to hoard plagas for their own nefarious purposes. "I see what Ada was blabbering about."

Svetlana tilted her head at him, "I tire of you. Kill him."

The guns went off and chased Leon as he almost took flight running. It was poor judgment and worse tactical training than Jill had ever seen. They tracked him and forgot she was still there. She'd found cover while he'd struggled with Svetlana and from behind the heavy shipping container, she fired the rifle in her hands.

While they were trying to kill Leon, Jill shot their president. She squeezed the trigger right on that slender chest in the fancy silk suit. Someone shouted, Svetlana was thrown onto her back to slide in a smear of blood along the floor, and Leon slid in beside her.

Jill shook her head, tucking back to safety as the panicking soldiers grabbed for their fallen leader to drag her away to safety. Jill snorted and muttered, "Not _that _fucking clever."

He arched his brows and she shrugged, "I just assassinated the president of the ESR."

He stared at her until she added, "...what? I'm already a traitor right? What are they gonna do...put me in prison?"

Leon's mouth turned up at the corner as he glanced at her mouth and said, "Shit...you ok?"

"...that bad huh?"

He nodded and glanced around the container, "You've looked better, kid."

"Yeah, well your girlfriend hits like a tank. That happens when you have big butch man arms."

His eyes twinkled with humor, "Hmm. I think she'd try to kill you again for saying it."

She glanced down to see he'd gotten ahold of his knife in the fray and tucked it back in his vest. Impressed, she added, "...and thank you for saving for my life."

He glanced at her and the humor died on his face as he returned, "...I was almost too fucking late that time."

"Yeah? At least it'd made your life easier huh?"

A strange conversation to have when pinned down by rapid gunfire but there it was.

A streak of anger shot over his face and there was a ding from the elevators as the intercom in the factory blared a warning, "THE B.O.W.S HAVE BROKEN THROUGH THE CARGO HOLD! THEY'RE HEADED YOUR WAY!"

The elevator pinged open and the shouting began. Bullets firing and blood flying and bodies scrambling to die screaming. Leon glanced over the container to find Buddy staring down at them from the catwalk high above the facility.

Leon called, "...you idiot...you use it all!?"

Buddy grinned and the licker that pranced beside him leaped over the balcony. Jill shot it from her crouch on the floor and blew it out of the air in a spray of blood, but the one that leaped over the container was too quick. It went right atop Leon while she shouted in horror.

The gun turned, the licker threw its arm out to kill the man pinned beneath its body, and it struck Jill full in the side as it did. The rifle flipped out of her hands and skidded across the ground as she was lifted up and throw away like a swatted fly. Her body smashed into another storage container and she rolled through the landing to run for the assault rifle she'd lost. The licker dove to eat Leon's face with its nasty spiked teeth, he smelled flesh and blood and rot, and Matilda anchored under that snapping, snarling, naked muscled chin while he pulled the trigger pinned beneath the damn thing.

A rain of blood splattered down as the top of its bulbous head blew apart like a torn pinata. Grunting with the effort of lifting two hundred pounds of muscle, Leon hoisted the dead thing off him and kicked it away to roll free. Jill shouted, "GET DOWN!"

And he did. He dropped to a crouch as she blasted another one that leaped at his face and warned, "BEHIND YOU!"

He spun in the crouch and picked off one in midair. A clean shot right through the head, it hit the ground, he leaped over the corpse and Buddy took off on the balcony. Leon commanded in a roar, "Jill! _FLANK HIM_!"

She took off through the containers as Leon boosted himself up to the top of one and started running. He was swift, sure footed, and fast like nothing she'd seen. She got it, now, what he'd been trying to tell her all this time - good as she was...she wasn't _that _good. He leaped from container to container. A licker tried to canonball right down atop him and he over rotated and blew it out of the air.

He leaped off the last container and took off down a narrow path between after the fleeing Buddy.

There was a whirring of alarms as the elevator sealed to signal any chance of escape had gone with the last of Svetlana's fleeing men. Buddy, laughing, shouted, "Just you then...Dorothy. I bet you are thinking...there's no place like home."

The lickers converged as Buddy shouted his attack. Jill knew there was no goddamn way even Leon could take them all. He blew apart two before the stampede was on him.

To his credit, he didn't even back down. He just kept standing there shooting. It was impressive...s_tupid_...but impressive.

She tackled him at the last second and two of the lickers soared through where he'd been standing.

He rolled as they rolled, shoved her beneath him, and a licker leaped down from atop the container above them. Jill felt as if it was the moment she'd gone out the window in that ugly mansion. Time stood still. She had all the moments in the world to make a decision.

So she did exactly what she'd seen the man atop her do before. She hooked her legs around Leon and jerked him into her body, the licker landed and smashed them into the floor as it swung its arm and took a chunk of his hair with it, and Jill shoved the knife in her hand right into its surging jaw. Leon, to his credit, went flat against her like dead weight to get out of her way. It pinned that snapping mess of teeth together, the licker squealed in rage, and Jill gripped the Magnum trapped between their bodies, tugged, and shot it in the brain from close range.

The blood rained down in a warm waterfall as the licker added two hundred pounds of muscle to the dog pile beneath it. Leon grunted, Jill gasped, "Way too much pressure on my pelvis here, hot stuff."

And he grunted, "I definitely do _not _have any interest in the being in a Leon sandwich like this..._ever _again."

Jill laughed and he rose on his hands and knees to shove the licker off them.

A brave survival, for all the good it would do them with Buddy sending the second wave to finish them off. There was a whirling set of lights right above them. A hissing release of a mechanism as Leon grabbed for Jill's hand and jerked.

She was barely clear of the floor before it split where she'd been and opened like a mouth to swallow the lickers body down into the light. Fog poofed up around them in a cloud of sulfur, the sides of the container that had been behind them split like a banana peel, and a thirty foot tall tyrant in a horrible over coat and a spiked collar stood there.

A giant. A monster. A moment of absolute fear like nothing she'd ever known in her whole life.

In the movies, the moment comes when the viewer sees the thing that stalks the night for the first time. The viewer gasps and questions the heroes that pause to stare in horror instead of running for their lives. Jill had always been one of them...until now.

She was frozen in abject terror.

It was Leon that spurred her on by shouting, "RUN JILL! RUN!"

Right.

_RUN._

Jill ducked behind a container. Leon shot left behind another to split its focus. Buddy shouted, "Mother of GOD!"

And just like that, they were all on the same side. David versus Goliath.

The lickers turned their focus at Buddy's command. They attacked the tyrant in brave bursts of naked muscle and determination. The lickers leaped. The lickers died. The tyrant tore them apart, ripped in half like a bread roll about to be buttered. He chucked their bodies as if they'd been pinatas made of bone and blood.

The floor was washed in a red river of death.

Jill hit the doors of the cargo elevator and shouted, "Come ON! OPEN!"

She turned around to pepper the tyrant with rounds from her rifle for all the good it did. It was like tossing a handful of rocks at it. It didn't even flinch. It was cloaked in _metal. _The rounds hit, sparked, and whistled off into the dark.

The tyrant turned its focus as Leon emerged atop a container to whistle at it.

It reached for him he tossed the grenade in his hand into the collar around its neck. As he leaped down to roll away, Jill ducked behind another container for cover. The world went high and bright and loud as the grenade exploded It was so close she had a ringing in her ears when the sound went away.

The tyrant collapsed over the shipping container missing most of its head and neck. The body made the whole room shake as it went down. Jill stumbled, the elevator doors pinged and started to rise, and Leon shouted, "GET IN!"

She ran for it the second she realized the ugly dead tyrant had a brother.

Buddy was right behind them, leaping into the freight elevator as Jill slammed the button for the ground floor. She raised her voice above the alarms, "It was in lock down...somebody had to have triggered it to release for us...who would do that!?"

There was no time to answer. One of the tyrants was running for them as they tried to flee. The doors to the elevator closed and dent as a fist crushed into it at the same time and the silence was almost loud.

Buddy, panting, told them, "...do you see what I was trying to stop?"

Leon nodded. He shifted in the cold cargo hold and only the trembling of his forearm told Jill he was still flying on adrenaline. Aloud, he returned, "I'm gonna make sure you live, you stupid bastard, so that somebody can tell the tale of what went down here today."

Buddy said nothing. He leaned on the wall, clutching his chest and shivering. How long did he have? There was no way to tell.

The elevator squealed with metal in distress. Jill staggered and Leon put a hand on her to steady her as the cables holding the damn thing up started to snap.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the tyrant had decide to hitch a ride on their escape plan.

Leon cursed and kicked off the wall of the freight car to grab for the emergency panel. He peeled it back as the cargo car tilted drunkenly and they all went right to compensate. His hand came down and he commanded, "Jill!"

She didn't ask what he was about. It didn't matter. She took his hand and he tugged, pushing her up and out the emergency panel. She climbed, she crawled, and she ran to the edge of the roof of the elevator car as it tried to tip sideways completely and plummet into the waiting dark.

Buddy joined her as another cable snapped and the car began to sway like a pendulum above a pit made of death.

She shouted, "THERE! THERE!"

Without waiting to explain, Jill backed up, swung the rifle to her back on the strap, and leaped. She went over the empty space and caught the ladder that waited along the wall that ran the length of the shaft to the escape route above it.

She nearly fell but held fast, inviting, "JUMP!"

Buddy did, bravely, and barely caught himself as he plummeted a little down from her to grapple and hold on. The tyrant had finally ripped away the floor of the cargo car as Leon ran for the edge of the roof. He jumped, the tyrant swipe a fist where he'd been and put a hole in the roof with a scream of metal, the weight was too much for the last of the lines and the damn thing popped and snapped like a rubber band, and Leon grabbed her hand.

In fairness, he was all muscle.

Her arm let her know exactly what that meant when you were trying to hold on. She gasped in pain and swung him toward the wall and the ladder, the elevator car plummeted with the roaring tyrant into the dark, and Leon caught the emergency steel beside her. He smacked hard into it and she grunted, "...shit...I take back the lifting remark. Please don't. You already weigh a ton."

His hand went right down, curled around her butt and made her squeak, and he tossed her up the ladder ahead of him, "Stop flirting and move it, woman."

She couldn't stop the high pitched laugh as she climbed.

Buddy complained, "Americans...everything you touch turns to shit."

And they made their way up the dark shaft toward the unknown.


	26. No Hope: Part 2: Chap 8

**Part Two:**

**-Where the Wild Things Are-**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Last Man Standing**

* * *

**Winter**

**-January 4th, 2012-**

**Holifgrad, Eastern Slav Republic**

* * *

The sunlight felt warm in the middle of the bitter breeze as they emerged from the manhole cover in the center of a narrow alleyway. Jill covered them as Leon and Buddy joined her on the rocky ground. In the sunlight, it was easy to see the damage on her from her battle with Ada.

Leon caught her chin with his thumb and first finger while she frowned at him. He turned her face a little more into the light with some look on his that she couldn't place. There was a line between his brows and a tension in his jaw that said anger, but not at her. At Ada?At the world?

Both, likely.

Jill said softly, "Looks worse than it is, I promise."

He said nothing. The whole lower half of her face was bruised and smeared with blood from her battered mouth. Ada had done her level best to knock all those teeth down Jill's throat. Why?

Questions and no answers were the story of his life. He must have stood there too long because Jill's hand lifted and wrapped around his wrist gently. His gaze turned from her chin to her eyes and she vowed, "...I'm alright. You should see the other guy."

His silence always managed to unnerve her a little.

Buddy filled the quiet, "We need to go..._now."_

The urgency in his tone had them turning. Emerging from the doors of the Capitol Building was another of the things they'd killed and left behind in the hive. Jill felt her insides quiver with fear. They had an assault rifle, a Magnum, and a knife...good as he was, she didn't think even Leon Kennedy could kill that thing with just that kind of artillery.

He must have agreed because he said, "This truck out here is an artillery supply for the long-dead army. It'll have RPGs in the damn thing, I guarantee it and a sniper rifle. Wait here and let me recon the area real quick."

He eased around the corner silently. They stood there with bated breath for a handful of minutes until he returned. He tossed an assault bag at Jill and handed her the enormous rifle in his other hand as he said, "There's a goddamn tank just beyond the square where the soldiers all went down. Can you drive it?"

Buddy piped up, "I can, but there's no way I can get to it. That thing will kill me first."

Jill knew the second he opened his mouth what Leon would say, "I'll draw it off. Jill, get to the roof and cover me. Buddy...don't let me down."

Even with the big RPG strapped to his back, he was still under-gunned out there. It was suicide. The stupid, noble, beautiful fool that he was, he was going to die being a goddamn hero.

It had never crossed her mind before to stop Chris from doing the same. What was it in her for him that wanted to ask him to run away like a coward instead of playing bait?

He started to run into the open square and Jill grabbed his arm. Something in her chest hurt as she begged, "Don't. Please. We can go this way. We can leave it and run. Don't do this."

It was unlikely he'd ever begin to understand what it cost her to beg him for such a thing. She wasn't a woman that ran from anything. She wouldn't run for her...but she wanted to run for him, and she didn't like that at all.

Leon gave her some kind of pitying glance, "I can't, Jill. This is what I came here to do. I can't let that thing run loose. God knows how many people will die before someone else comes along to stop it. I _have_ to take it down. Help me, or go and hide somewhere and wait. I won't hold it against you either way...but there's no time to stand here and thinking about it. Sorry, kid."

He tugged his arm free as he ran out in the open like bait to a trap.

She carried the bag and the loaded rifle like it was the body of a fallen comrade.

Jill felt her heart seize as she ran for the edge of the building and started up the fire escape. In the square, she heard the pound of that big bastard pursuing him. She raced over the roof and went to her belly, sighting the weapon on the nasty armored thing that tried desperately to kill him.

It shattered columns and kicked over cars and roared. He didn't look afraid. He looked determined. He ran and slid and jumped and propelled himself around as if any surface was a trampoline waiting to launch him into some kind of dashing heroic flip. It was like a dance in a way, and he was a master of it. What had Sherry said? Eight steps ahead? He was and it was effortless for him.

She knew why the government had bound him to them. Between what he was and what he could do, he was a gift. If Wesker had known, suspected, or even considered something beyond his own arrogance - he'd have seen it too. He'd have sent Ada Wong into Raccoon City to bring back the cop along with the virus.

When it swung for Leon's face, Jill shot it between the eyes. The heavy round threw blood as it simply absorbed into that massive skull. It was like a mosquito on human flesh, annoying, but easily ignored.

She took another shot at the throat of it as Leon slid under a truck and the tyrant grabbed as if to rip the massive vehicle up like it was nothing. It threw the truck with a scream of metal. The ground beneath was empty. Hell, even Jill hadn't even seen him pull that magic act and disappear.

There was a clatter of claws and she turned her head to find the square filled with lickers. Buddy smiled, his eyes as red as the dying sun, and he sent his army of inside out men to do his bidding. They attacked in pairs and fours. They used tongues to try to hold the tyrant still and kill it in waves. It was as organized as you could expect monsters to be. Being controlled by Buddy helped imbue them with some level of human intelligence.

The tyrant took a few swipes from the lickers that attacked until it finally jerked the two holding it down right off the ground with their tongues still attached to its wrists like manacles. It slung them out and easily as if they were yoyos on the end of a string. It smacked the others and scattered and splattered them with such force that there was little left of the ones who'd taken the hits.

It beat them down until only a single one remained. The licker backed up, terrified, and the tyrant rushed it as it ran. It dodged, it weaved, it ducked between two cars and hurried away. The second she saw the intent, she aimed and waited. The licker jumped and propelled off the gas tanker that was abandoned and leaking all over the ground. The tyrant threw a punch to smash it cleanly into the back of the enormous tank and leave a splattered body and a huge hole behind.

Softly, she cooed, "Bingo." And hit the trigger.

The eruption was so loud and so wide it made a _whomp _of sound and pressure before it caught fire. The street zipped with flames, the tyrant was incinerated on the spot, and all the cars surrounding it became candles lit in effigy. It collapsed in a blackened husk of death and shook the ground with its demise.

But it didn't matter.

It wasn't alone.

Another one made its entrance with a pound of boots on pavement. It raced for her on the roof and she turned the gun at its ugly face. The truth was that she didn't even need to. On the ground, a whistle of sound drew its attention and hers. The RPG whined, the tyrant threw up its arms in defense, but that didn't matter either. The second the heavy rocket propelled grenade struck, the damn thing bursts like a water balloon tossed off a roof on a hot day. Blood flew and bone shot off in fragments of shrapnel and pink mist.

Leon lowered the RPG and the wall behind him of the Capitol Building erupted in stone and shattering glass. It sprayed all over where he hunkered down to avoid being blasted off his feet by the force of it. The tyrant that emerged in victory was too close. The building exploding around Leon was too much. He was too busy trying to avoid being buried under falling stone and glass to be able to run.

Jill shouted as she fired and the heavy rounds hit first the head of it, next the throat; she put one right through its ugly left eye - but it didn't matter. It couldn't. He tried to raise the weapon he swung off his back and it grabbed him around the middle like a child reaching for a doll.

"NO!" Her voice echoed. She fired again, again, again and the tyrant jerked, twitched, and tossed Leon in the air almost playfully. He went up, the the tyrant swung back its arm in a wide arc with a roar and caught him again around the torso, and it simply threw him away as if it were tossing a fastball to a player on a baseball field. It launched him up and out.

He flew across the whole square like a tossed toy and smashed into a column before the sad crumbling building that had once housed the things that were trying to kill them. He hit sideways on his back, tumbled down on his face, and was still. Somehow even over the horror of her own shouting, she could still hear the crack of his back as he hit.

No.

No no no.

Her brain simply couldn't accept it.

But there was no other way it could be.

There was no way anyone, anywhere could have survived it.

It had thrown him the length of two football fields faster than a car laying rubber to peel away.

He laid on his face and didn't move.

She shouted, "_Kennedy -__GET UP_!"

But she knew he wouldn't. He was dead. The dead didn't rise unless they came back as zombies.

Jill raced for the edge of the roof and leaped one-handed over the side. She skidded and slid down the damaged facade of the building until she hit her feet and raced across the square. With the sniper rifle abandoned in horror and fear, she was just a woman with a knife and no real hope anyway. That's why it was bad to get too close to someone like this. It made you fucking stupid with fear.

The logical partner of Chris Redfield had been obliterated from laying beneath the thrusting body of the dead man on the ground. Sex had turned her into a blithering idiot. She tried to care, she really did, but she couldn't. Seeing him down and out and still eroded anything but the need to get there and bring him back.

Jill ran, the tyrant turned toward her to take her down like it had the man on the ground behind it, and she shouted, "PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE!"

Sure..right. That made sense. He'd just killed Leon Kennedy, but she was going to show it who was boss. Why not? The underdog occasionally rose to victory, right? Hadn't she done it time and again beside Chris? Why not now?

Jill dropped the knife in her hand, the tyrant reached her and she slid between its legs, leaped upon its back and climbed like a monkey. It grabbed for her, she stuck her knife in its head, jerked it free, and stabbed it into its ugly eye until it finally got her. It didn't matter, she ripped the knife free as it jerked her off of its back. Blood sprayed wet and hot all over her as it dangled her in front of its face and just...started squeezing.

The snake in the mansion a hundred years before had wrapped her in its coils and tried to kill her that way, by compressing her to death in a slow, agonizing fashion. This wasn't slow and it wasn't steady. It was immediate and awful and felt like her bones had been stuck in a trash compactor and were being crushed to a pulp. She heard herself scream with it, loud and high and awful. Her knife stabbed and stabbed and stabbed into the hand that killed her as useless as a pin pushed into human flesh and the tyrant jerked as two lickers leaped on its back.

It grunted, a licker sliced a huge chunk of its face away in a bath of blood and torn muscle, and it tossed her away. Not threw...no...it just lobbed her to the ground and she rolled, rolled, rolled and hit the side of a car to stop. She heard it roar and battle the lickers; Jill struggled to get up from her face and had a moment, a single one, where she thought about just staying there to die.

The vest she wore was jerked on the back. She was summarily pulled to her feet and commanded, "GO! Get behind that goddamn bus over there!"

Leon?

Not just Leon. Leon..._fine._ He was bruised and bloody and limping a little...but he was still running. He ran from her toward the tank that crushed bodies as it thundered across the square. He should be dead. Broken, shattered, internal bleeding turning him into a puddle...dead.

Instead, he climbed up the tank while Jill ran for the bus to take cover.

There was a whine of sound as the tyrant tried to lift the front end of the tank to toss it and a licker stuck to its face in a bad hug, the barrel of the main gun took a trip right over the two locked in an embrace of pure horror, and went off. Loud. Echoing over the dying city. Leaving a smoking bloody mess behind.

The tyrant dropped the tank and fell to its back with a gushing stump of a neck where its head had been.

Leon and Buddy both emerged from the tank. Leon stared at the body of the licker beside the tank and shook his head. Softly, he intoned, "...a goddamn B.O.W. saved our lives."

He glanced up to find Jill racing across the square toward him. Panicked, his hand tugged Matilda from the base of his spine as he shouted, "What!? Where is it!? Behind yo-"

She threw herself against him and nearly put him on his ass. With an _oopmph, _he caught her as her arms looped around his neck and she gushed, "_...omigawd._..how!? How!? You really are a fucking comic book superhero."

With a grunt, he begged, "...easy, kid...easy...my goddamn ribs..."

She let go of him and shook her head, eyes welling, "_How?_ How the hell could anyone survive that?!"

Leon shrugged, looking sheepish, "I told you...I'm bulletproof."

She was starting to think he really, really was.

He lifted a hand, winced at the pain it caused him, but finished the move by cupping her face as he told her, "I told you to stay on that roof."

She slapped his hand away and snapped, "I told you not to die a fucking hero! I'll listen when _you_ do!"

He grinned, "I ain't dead, sweetheart, so I think I kept my promise."

Jill grabbed a handful of his dirty jacket and Buddy told them, "Sorry to interrupt the romantic reunion but...we must go..._now. _Now now now."

He was right. Another one of those damn things were emerging from the shattered remains of the Capitol Building. How many did they have!? Leon tossed Buddy's arm over his shoulders and hefted the angry slav. Jill picked up the assault rifle on the ground and carried it, for all the good it would do, as they moved quickly across the square.

There was no running anymore. They weren't alone. There were two more blocking any possible escape route. Leon set buddy against the fountain they came upon that was filled with bubbling, bustling, trembling water turned bubblegum pink from blood. Jill aimed at the closest tyrant...and the rifle clicked empty.

She lowered it.

She dropped it to the ground with a clatter.

Leon pulled the trigger on Matilda and it clicked empty as well.

Her laugh was sharp and instant and high with fear and resolve. She threw a hand over her mouth and shook her head. He glanced at her, shrugged, and stuck Matilda in the back of his jeans. Jill tugged his knife from his vest and offered it to him.

Amused, eyes twinkling, Leon shrugged and took it. "What the hell, right?"

She tried, "Buddy? Any more B.O.W.S. coming?"

But he'd passed out from coughing on his butt by the fountain.

She tugged the knife from his sleeping thigh and rose. Leon tried, just once, "You could take Buddy and run."

With a snort, she wondered, "Oh? Where? You think you can hold them here while I flee? Even _you _aren't that good."

He lifted his knife and braced his wrist. Jill lowered her shoulder and blew out a hard breath. He held it like he knew how to wield it. The errant thought came to her that he was probably better at knife play than she was, damn him, when she shook her head to clear it.

The tyrant turned toward them and just started running and Jill offered a death bed confession, "...I'm sorry...about everything. I'd take it all back if I could."

He didn't look away from the rushing monster, but he answered, gruffly, "Yeah? All of it?"

"...not all of it...thank you, Kennedy...for everything."

He laughed, shaking his head as the tyrant reached less than a hundred yards distance from them, "...it's _Leon_, you bitch. Leon."

Jill's voice broke as she laughed and two tears hit her cheeks. She was somehow amused, terrified, and about to die ripped to pieces. It seemed ok to laugh about it as she told, "I know what your name is...make sure they get you first...Leonard."

His laughter made the terror mix with some kind of resolution that blanketed her in determination as the tyrant drew back its arm as if to punch them both into oblivion.

There was a whistle of sound. Jill shifted to..what?...cover him? He had a moment to be touched by the gesture and the tyrant turned into a geyser of guts and blood and stink. It exploded as the heavy artillery hit it from the jet that whined swiftly across the sky and circled back for another go.

Leon started to lower his knife as he spat, "...mother fuckers...they were watching me the whole time..."

The second tyrant turned toward them and started running. He lifted his knife again and it joined its dead friend in oblivion and a gusting spray of bone and bisected body parts. Plop. Plop. Plop.

It was hard to do anything but stare as the last one was simply turned into pink mist by the guns on the jet that tossed clouds from careless engines as it split the sky and saved their lives.

The crunch of tires on tired streets filled the air.

Just like that...the cavalry had arrived.

On ground, Buddy whispered, "Finish me off...please. I don't want to become one of those things."

Jill turned the knife on him and Leon grabbed her wrist to lower it. He tugged the pistol from Buddy's limp hand and aimed it at him instead. To her surprise, he said, "You don't get to make that choice anymore. The moment you picked up a weapon and started fighting this war, you owe it to the people that died along side you to never stop. You owe it to those goddamn children to make it right and work toward freeing this country for the ones who are left...even if you have to do it without the use of your goddamn limbs."

He fired, Buddy screamed, and Jill realized what he'd done.

The snap of bone echoed in the cold air. He'd severed Buddy's spinal column to obliterate the plagas bonded to him. He'd crippled him, but saved his life.

As the soldiers raced toward them, she stared at him until Leon turned his head to her in the rising dawn and she asked, "...why?"

He told her. He'd always been telling her. She just...didn't understand it as he said it again, "Life matters, Jill. All of it. What he does after this...it matters. He won't ever forget and he will never stop fighting."

Softly, she wondered, "...will you?"

The breeze flicked his hair around his tired face as he told her, "...when the T-Virus does."

It was the moment she knew the fight would kill him. Leon Kennedy was a man who die a martyr in a war that might never end. It was a wonderful, noble, stupid, generous thing to be...and he was a fool for it.

It was the moment she accepted the fact that she would probably love him for the rest of his stupid, noble, wonderful life...however short that might be.

* * *

Jill leaned her head back against the wall of the chopper. The wind rushed around her as she started to drift off to her own stench and the comforting roar of the engine when Leon's voice came into her ears over the headsets they both wore, "...hey."

Her eyes flickered over at him beside her and he gave her a look that made her want to lean a little forward to ki-

"You gotta go to the other side for me, ok?

A little dejected, Jill gave him a cold look and he confessed, "...just-I have to rip a huge fart ok? It's been brewing since the hive...I was gonna let it loose all over Ada, but the President of Terrorist town showed up and ruined my moment. So..please?"

Oh, it felt so good to let the humor bubble up and over.

She remarked, "That's pretty passive-aggressive, Kennedy. How do you show a girl you like her? You piss all over her?"

He grinned and shrugged.

Amused, Jill shifted to the other wall of the chopper. He sighed and tensed before he relaxed. His eyes rolled and he looked so happy. Her mouth twitched. Leon opened his eyes and she told him, "...thanks for the heads up."

He gave her a thumbs up. She leaned her head back and laughed.

The hero on the helicopter story no one talked about, even heroes needed to eat, sleep, and shit.

And blast ass after living through a nightmare.

* * *

There was nothing like a hot shower to make you feel like you weren't mostly dead. Leon was so sore he was afraid he'd start whimpering like a wuss. It was a good thing he was alone in his room to do it.

He threw back a shot of vodka, hissed, and leaned his hands on the dresser in the hotel room where he'd been put up by the army.

The United States and Russian forces had joined forces to end the war. The US, fearing the knowledge of Belikova having BOWS at her disposal, had run like hell to join the Russians in an attempt to contain the fallout. They'd known, before that, they'd known all about what was happening there. Hell, they'd probably sanctioned it.

Leon was betting his left ball that Simmons was behind it.

The ugly faced turd was as power-hungry as any potential goon grabbing for the throne of an empire. Why hadn't he made a run at the White House? Maybe he didn't have the political clout to pull off an election.

In the end, whatever they'd done in the ESR hadn't changed a damn thing. The US had let him run in there knowing what was brewing. They'd let him play the idiot hero and popped up to look like the great savior of a failing republic.

Once more...he was just the fool who didn't know how to turn away from a people in need.

His hand touched the little doll on the dresser. The little yarn face and the shock of blonde hair. Even there, he'd failed. What good was he doing if he couldn't even save those who needed him?

Melancholy, he shook his head and swallowed another shot of liquid regret.

Leon stared at his face in the mirror. His hair was peeled back from his tired face. The towel around his hips didn't hide anything from the waist up. His body looked like a patchwork quilt made by a hippie who loved to die dye. Yellow, red, purple, blue and green bloomed in flowers of ruptured blood vessels and damaged muscle from tits to hips. His back felt like he'd been trampled in a stampede of fleeing buffalo.

He was a fucking wreck.

Wincing, he spat blood into the hand-towel he'd brought from the bathroom. Best guess was lung damage, inhaling sharply, he could confirm that he was fucked up. What had Jill shouted at him?

_Why wasn't he dead?_

She was right. He should be. He'd taken so much damage since Raccoon City that had to stop to think about what it meant that he wasn't dead. He had scarring all over him, sure, but he'd never done more than fracture a rib or two when it came to damage below the surface of his muscles.

Why?

He'd gotten completely fucked up in Columbia fighting Krauser in the field for Manuella's safety. He'd nearly died. He'd spent four days in the ICU trying to keep from bleeding out and dying. Jack had broken four of his ribs and his arm from the elbow down.

That had been the last time he'd taken crippling damage.

When had he started to turn impervious?

To the mirror, he admitted, "...Plagas."

There was nothing else it could be. The plagas had done something to him, shifted something in his body or his DNA, it had made him stronger, more able to take the hits and keep on coming. The damn thing had nearly had him before he'd gotten it out.

It had bonded to something in him before that. Why?

He didn't have the answers.

He knew someone who might, but he'd be damned if he was going to pick up the phone to call her. At this point, he was half wishing Ada was dead anyway. It would make his life easier to say goodbye to her fabulous ass.

He had no doubt she'd have killed Jill with that knife in the hive.

The question was why? Why did she want Jill gone so badly? Ada didn't kill indiscriminately. There was something at play here bigger than two women battling over his affection. Hell, he wasn't even going to let that be a factor since Ada had never once shown any interest in his affection, to begin with.

He was starting to be very aware that this game with Ada was becoming something dangerous. If he stepped wrong, would it cost him Jill?

The thought gave him a long pause. Would _he _lose her? Was she his? She didn't even like him at the moment. She mostly thought he was a cuck and a fuck up and a jackass.

If he chose her over Ada, would it finally prove what she was to him?

His head wondered- what _is _she?

And he answered out loud, "...everything."

Shit.

That's where he was. On the hook of two very different women for two entirely different reasons. Ada had been playing him for a fool for years, he knew that. He'd played along because it didn't cost him anything and the pay out was usually worth the cost.

Had he become her toy somewhere along the way?

He stared at his face in the mirror. She'd sent him to the laser in Spain to free himself from the plagas...had she known the damage to his body was already done? Had she deliberately left him to think he was free and clear of that damn thing?

Why keep something like that from him?

Why try to kill Jill?

He didn't have any answers. He didn't know where to begin finding them. He just knew it was time to start digging into Ada Wong in a way he never had before. He might be a cuck, but that didn't mean he had to be an idiot.


	27. No Hope: Part 2: Chap 9

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Two:**

**-Where the Wild Things Are-**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Foolish Games**

* * *

**Winter**

**-January 5th, 2012-**

**Folinstav, The Peoples Republic of Edonia**

* * *

There was a jiggling of his doorknob to Leon's room. Brows arched, he picked up Matilda and aimed it as the door eased open.

Jill's hands went up the second she saw him. "...don't shoot...I'm a human?"

Was he surprised? She could pick the lock on the Pentagon they said.

His mouth twitched. He lowered the gun with a groan and set it on the dresser. She eased into the room in a big gray t-shirt and sweat pants that someone had given her. Her hair was pony tailed back from her battered face.

Ada had beat the shit out of her mouth at some point. As much pain as he was in, he still winced at the state of Jill's jaw and chin. The lower half of her face was a big bruise topped by a nose and a terrific set of budding black eyes.

She hurried toward him, hissing in sympathy, "...Jesus Christ..."

"Nope...just Leon."He quipped as she took his arm as if he was an invalid and clucked her tongue admonishing him. "Although to be sure, wanna see if I can walk on water?"

Jill rolled her eyes and guided him toward the bed. "Come on, tough guy, go lay down."

He laughed, "I'm wounded not sick, Jill."

But he let her play mother hen anyway. She gently smeared the salve she'd brought with her over his aching back as she sat on her knees behind him on the bed. He put his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward to put his tired face in his hands.

Softly, as she rubbed the salve into the lower back, she inquired, "Any news?"

Leon scoffed, "Not since the great reveal that we didn't do a damn thing to help."

Jill paused, eyeing his hunched form. He was hurting. It was the children and the failure to make a difference there. She didn't have to know him as well as she did to see it all over him.

The little doll on the dresser broke her fucking heart.

She could comfort him with words, of course, but he was in a place where that might just make it worse. So instead, she came around the front of him. She knelt at his feet and tugged his hands away from his face. The despair on him killed her.

Whatever else was true, she knew he was one of a kind. He didn't stop. He didn't back down or run away or give up. He didn't punch down doors like Chris had all their lives...he flipped over them, blew apart the person blocking them, and mourned the people he'd failed on the way.

Jill tunneled her fingers through his wet hair. She shook her head as if he'd spoken. It was the most silent way in the world someone had ever said - _it's not your fault._

One of his shoulders jerked a little in a shrug. He tried to turn his head away and she tightened her fingers in his hair. She shook her head again. His eyes were glassy and beautiful somehow. The same color of a moment when the sea and the sky meet and make an endless run into eternity.

Pain - physical, emotional, eternal. He wore it like he wore that damn leather jacket...as if it were made to fit him forever. She lifted off the floor to be on her knees. It put their faces even and she shook her head again when she saw the resistance to her comfort all over him.

He didn't want understanding and empathy. He just wanted to blame himself and hate himself for the things he couldn't control. He urged her, "...don't."

Don't what? Care? Touch him? Help him? Look at him? Maybe all of it. It was too late for that. He'd been asking her to trust him, the trust came with the care. It's what came with letting someone in.

Finally, she commanded softly, "...you have to let it go."

The cold, angry, determined face he'd worn like armor in the ESR collapsed. The vulnerability of it made him feel weak and stupid in front of her. He tried to get away from what she offered him with something like panic on him as his voice broke, "Stop, Jill. Just go. Ok? Just go away."

She shook her head at him and said, "Haven't you figured it out yet? You can't get rid of me that easy. I'm done running."

Almost desperately, he urged, "I don't want you here, ok? I just want to be alone."

"...no you don't. You just don't want to have me see it all over you."

His jaw flexed as he snapped, "What? Failure?"

"No." She gave him such a soft and sympathetic glance that his hackles rose in response, like a shield lifting to stop her, as she returned, "...love. Loss. Need. What do you need, Leon?"

"...fuck off, Jill. I mean it."

"No, you don't." She saw the pain hit the anger on him and battle for control, "You could stop me. Hurt or not, you could throw me out if you really want me gone. You don't want me gone. So what do you need?"

"Let go of me, Jill. Now."

He tried to pull away and she held on while his eyes flashed warnings at her. She said it again, "What do you need?"

So he hissed, "A drink, you bitch, so go get me one."

Jill jerked on his hair and made him gasp, "No, you don't. What do you need?"

He still hadn't stopped her from holding on to him. Didn't he realize what that said? His mouth was saying one thing, but the hand on her chest wasn't pushing her away. It had shifted at some point between her breasts to lay flat against the beat of her heart. The other was clenched on his knee like it was afraid to touch her.

Frustrated, panicked in ways he couldn't explain, he resisted, "What do you want me to say here?"

She held his eyes with hers like some kind of witch. Why couldn't he look away from her!? So she pushed, "The truth. Tell me what you need."

Angry, scared of something he didn't even know how to fight, he shouted, "PEACE! OK!? I just want to have some fucking _peace!_ So go away and_ let me have it!_"

She loved the shouting. It was probably the most real he ever was with her. An emotional man buried under a layer of charm and money and chilly faced bad ass. A man who would cripple you before he'd kill you. A man who didn't want you to see him break and suffer and fall apart. The shouting was the vulnerability of a hero without hope.

It made her heart trip and tremble. He tried to push her away and like the parasites that plagued him, she wouldn't let go. The hand on her chest pushed and the one on his leg unclenched to grip her ponytail and pull like he'd peel her off him. Jill curled her fingers around the back of his head instead and pressed his forehead to hers. She touched her tender mouth to his nose and made his breath hitch as he warned, "...I don't want you here, Jill. I mean it."

She pressed another kiss to his mouth and told him, "No, you don't. Shut up, Leon. Just this one time, shut up and let me do this for you."

Fuck.

She pressed another kiss to his mouth and he grumbled, "You'll hurt your mouth, you stupid girl."

She pressed her lips again and laughed, "So what? I can take a little pain if it takes a little of yours too."

He didn't think anyone in the world had ever offered to take his pain before. He didn't know how to give it to her, but the offer alone was worth everything.

His resistance just crumpled away. His hands came up to grip her arms above the elbows. He rolled their foreheads and kissed her back. She made a sound of pain and need. The soft whimper was swallowed by his mouth as he opened it and twirled tongues with her.

His back and chest let him know it didn't like his aggressive kissing, but he ignored that too to taste her. He wanted to find the flavor of all that strength beneath the pain she'd survived. He wanted to share it between them like their tongues.

Jill moaned and rose up higher to give him more of her. His hands caught her face to tilt it back to him. Hers twisted in his hair. The slide and glide of lips, tongue, teeth and tender desperation were nearly as throbbing as her mouth as she opened for him.

He tasted copper from her split lip and part of him liked the little moan of pain she made as she tried to kiss him harder. As they parted mouths, Jill panted, "...what do you need? Do you want to hurt me a little? Will it make this easier? I can take it. Let me take it from you. Let me just..."

She opened her mouth to his tongue again. The need to let her was nearly crippling itself. He wanted to hurt her a little to lessen his own, and it was a dark part of the human heart that no one really exposed to another. It was the part that wanted to never suffer alone and to bring others into the ugly dark to suffer with you. He wanted to slide his hand down her back and take all the rage, all the self hatred, all the failure and spank her ass pink with it to make them both feel better.

She'd liked it. He'd like it and they'd both pretend it wasn't the kind of therapy they were both craving.

He was so wounded and sore, he wanted to pick her up and toss her on the bed to have her, but he didn't think he could even stand up without crying like a baby. He was hard as a rock under the towel, beat to fuck above it, and lost somewhere in between want, need, and endless regret. Wreck was the wrong word. He was a fucking disaster.

He jerked on her ponytail and her high sound of need was answered by the groan of his own. He hurt. He _hurt. _And it wasn't just body, it was soul and blood and heart. He hated everything, and he hated that he couldn't just pour all of that pain into her and let her take it from him. He wanted to take hers. He wanted to give his back to her. He wanted to burn each other up until there was nothing but flesh and fucking and forgetting.

He hated that he would never be the kind of man who could forget.

But he damn sure wanted to try.

Jill moaned, she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth to suckle, and she put a hand right up the inside of his left thigh, found his throbbing cock with her fist and tugged. One second of incredible, and a moment of stupid greed. His back arched right into that tugging fist. It forgot he was fucking broken.

That was it.

That was all it took.

The pain was so bad it came out of his mouth on a rumbling curse. Jill let go of his dick to grab his face and his hands shifted to her hips to bear down and hold on as the wave of murdering hurt nearly crippled him. His eyes sprang with tears as she gasped, stroking his face, "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking...what can I do?"

His laughed was strained, breath, and followed by a hiss, "...it's alright, sweetheart, I was here too, remember? I'm ok. Just give me a second."

Jill thought it was the first time he'd called her sweetheart without sarcasm dripping off every syllable.

His bones aching, Leon's hand still caught her chin to scan it with all the damage. Her mouth was swollen from fists and kisses. It was some kind of pervert that found her willingness to hurt herself more to kiss him exciting.

He told her, gruffly, "...I'm sorry I dragged you here. I should have left you safe in New York."

Jil's lashes trembled as she whispered, "You kidding?! You went down and I...I just...I almost-...I thought you were dead."

Shaking with pain, he still held that tortured look of hers with his own. She said it again, higher this time and angry somehow, "...I thought you were _dead."_

Her hands petted the hair back from his face. She trembled a little as she did it and repeated, "I thought you were dead. Why aren't you dead?"

His silence was scaring her as he hunched there holding her chin. Finally, into the tense void that followed, she uttered breathlessly, "..._what are you_?"

He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. His nothing said everything.

She didn't run. She slid a little bit between his knees. He was quivering like a man with a massive fever. She knew the pain he was in had to be crippling, though he was as silent as a tomb as he endured it. The hands on his face brought his forehead back to hers.

The breath he'd held rushed out of his lungs as they both closed their eyes.

With a little broken sound, Jill confessed, "...I'm really glad you didn't die...I hate you so much for making me give a shit."

It was almost like I love you from that filthy mouth of hers.

Leon made a small sound of ascent. His hands skimmed up her back to her shoulders to grip her as close as he dared. They stayed that way until it was clear that whatever else was true, it wasn't just Jill in chains anymore.

Like it or not, they were stuck together.

* * *

**Winter**

**-February 8th, 2012-**

**Washington D.C.**

* * *

Assembled around the table were all the suits with sour faces that he'd sat before more than once. This time, they watched him with judgmental eyes. There was murmuring and quiet dissension and muttering. Occasionally, one would throw Leon a meaningful glance.

He'd sat before them so often that he was numb to their gazes now.

And he wasn't alone.

Beside him, Jill was silent and stiff.

The suit she wore was pinstriped blue with a sea-green shirt beneath it. Her hair was braided back from her face and left it naked and lovely. No makeup, but she didn't need it and rarely bothered.

In the month since they'd come back from the ESR, they'd barely spoken. He'd been too hurt and recovering to do little more than tell her upon their return to his penthouse, "...I disabled the distance regulator on the collar."

Surprised, she'd stared at him as he'd limped to the couch like he had a load in his pants and eased onto cushions with a great heave of pain, and finally breathed, "...what?"

So he told her again, "I disabled it. It won't go off if you run now...you're free."

Hurting, aching, and scared, he'd shouted it when she simply stood there staring at him, "GO ON! GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE! It's what you want right!? So run!"

Jill had stood there frozen until he'd given up and tried to get comfortable on the couch. Cursing, groaning, and angry with weakness, he'd kicked over the coffee table in rage when he simply couldn't find a way to sit that didn't hurt.

The sound of the door closing had had him shutting his eyes. Free. It was the one thing she'd asked him for: freedom. He gave it to her now to set her loose from whatever came next. He had to find out about himself.

He had to know if his speculation was right and there was something in his blood that made him just a little less human. He couldn't trap her here to see him fall apart with the truth of it. If he was right, the fight had taken more than his life, it had taken his future. Infected with enough of whatever made him impervious...he couldn't guarantee it wouldn't turn him into something else at some point.

How could he even hope to have any kind of normal life now? Alone was the only way he knew how to do things. It was better that she went and left him to it.

As he started to rise and go into the kitchen to get a bottle of whiskey, he heard the clink of ice cubes in a glass and opened his eyes to find her standing there above him. She'd offered him the two fingers of Remy Martin and a painkiller prescribed by the doctor in Edonia.

He'd shook his head and reached for the glass so she'd barked, "The pill, Kennedy. Or I'll grind it up and dump it in your goddamn drink next time."

Jaw flexed, he'd grabbed the pill from her hand, spitting like a wounded cat, "...I fucking told you to go."

And now she shouted. It was so loud it scared the piss out of him for a second, "SHUT UP!"

He winced. His head throbbed and he grunted, "...fuck...calm down."

Jill had bared her teeth as she'd kept right on going, "You are a fucking idiot! A MORON! A stupid, selfless, wonderful, retarded ass monkey!"

He'd flinched and scoffed a little, "...was that an insult or a compliment?"

She'd gripped the back of his hair, jerked his head back while he'd grunted in anger, and stuffed the pill in his mouth. As he started to get snarky, she slapped a hand over his mouth and demanded, "Swallow it, you stubborn jackass, right now. Or I will poke you in the ribs."

Shit.

He'd swallowed it and she'd let go of him with a scoff. "Yeah. Tough guy. Just shut up from now on. I don't want to hear another word from you."

As she'd gone into the kitchen to prepare him something to eat, Leon had thrown back the whiskey with a hiss of relief and muttered, "...I say whatever I want. You're not the boss of me."

A dishtowel had smacked him in the side of the face as she'd launched it at him. Wincing, he'd heard her shout, "I heard _that! _I SAID SHUT UP!"

Grumbling, grumpy, he'd stared at his empty whiskey glass with an angry hiss, "...women."

He didn't understand a single one of them.

She'd taken care of him. She'd cooked and cleaned and helped him dress. She'd never said a word about it. He'd been sour and surly and rude at times until she'd pulled his hair or slapped his ass to make him fall silent.

She'd pushed him into the shower and forced him to stretch when his sore muscles were stiff and resistant. She was a demon...or a goddess. Maybe both.

He was here to repay her. He was going to set her free for good. As the eyes in the room surveyed both of them, Jill glanced over at his profile.

The shaggy spill of his dirty blonde hair obscured everything but that perfect jaw. He wore a button-down in blazing red that popped against the pretty perpetual tan of his. Black vest, black slacks, black boots and a holster beneath his arm that made him look like GQ goes Mercenary Monthly.

She had the strangest urge to reach under the table and put her hand on the inside of his thigh.

They hadn't touched each other since they'd returned from the ESR. It had been healing and research and silence in that house. Nobody ran, nobody fought, nobody fled or fucked or pushed the other to punishment. It was sometimes as silent as a tomb.

She didn't have to record it to see him heal faster than a normal man. Each day, he was just a little less wounded. Three weeks into his recovery, he was almost completely restored to perfect health - Jill still had bruises on her mouth from Ada and a wounded shoulder from that knife. Leon looked like he'd never even been touched.

Now the men in suits were watching them before the one in the ugly tie spoke, "...we have made some decisions based on recent events."

She studied him with pursed lips because he was familiar. How? She felt like she'd seen him somewhere before.

The man spoke again, "Due to your actions in the ESR, your loyalty to the agency has been reevaluated. Jill Valentine - we're giving you one opportunity to plead your case for release before us before we render our verdict."

She cleared her throat. She took a deep breath and said, "The trauma I've suffered has left me with PTSD in a way I hadn't expected. I seem unable to function, without Director Kennedy beside me, beyond the walls of the penthouse where I have been kept in custody. I think, given the right situation, I could be removed from his care without too much psychological damage."

There was murmuring among the table. Leon's jaw flexed and the pulse in his throat jumped, but he said nothing. Jill sat up higher in her seat, her hand moved off her own knee under the table and did exactly as she'd wanted. It slid up the inside of his left one and settled on his thigh.

His face showed nothing. Not even a flicker. He had the best poker face she'd ever seen.

And she finished her speech, "However, I don't think it would be in my best interest at this time to be without his guardianship. I'm afraid separating me from him at this juncture could set back my recovery. It is _only _because of him that I'm even able to function at all."

The faces nodded and murmured again. The man in the tie grinned wolfishly and remarked, "Very well. You will remain in Agent Kennedy's care."

Agent.

Agent?

And that's when he dropped the last bomb he had as he remarked, "Effective immediately, Leon S. Kennedy - you are removed form duty as Director of Security Operations. You will remit all the I.D.'s, clearances, and intel acquired in that position for your successor. You will remain attached as an Agent within the DSO for field operations and serve on the Secret Service detail to the newly elected President Benford. This decision is final. There will be no appeal."

Leon said nothing. Silent as the grave.

Jill shouted, "Why!?"

One of the other blank faces actually answered her, "He denounced his citizenship to remain in the ESR, Ms. Valentine. He defied direct orders to vacate. He assisted in the theft of a dominant plagas by an unknown foreign agent."

Jill tried again, "He did _what?"_

And the man in the ugly tie grinned, "Oh, yes. The only viable plagas left after the destruction of the hive built by Svetlana Belikova was stolen. The last person with access was the man beside you. He either stole it himself or made the path clear for the person who did. One is stupidity, the other is treason. Which would you like us to vote?"

Jill started to rise to defend him and Leon finally moved. He clasped her hand beneath the table and squeezed. His face was still as stony as she'd ever seen it. Instead of surging over the table to feed that ugly little man his stupid tie, Jill stayed beside him. She was vibrating with rage.

Finally, she simply sneered, "You want to use him as a scapegoat for the mess we both know you made in that country."

The man in the tie simply smiled, "We're done here, Ms. Valentine. We'll reevaluate your release in another six months."

Leon rose. Jill rose beside him. He said nothing at all. Not a peep. Not a word.

It was official - he'd lost everything because of her. She was painfully aware of what taking her in had done to his life. His career, his reputation, his body were all fucked because of her.

She was almost afraid she was going to drown in the shame of it. He'd never blame her, not ever, but he didn't have to. She'd blame herself enough for both of them.

She followed him through the building trembling with repressed rage. When they stepped on the elevator, his hand came down and hers slid into it as the people filled up around them. She pressed into his side, his arm settled against the front of her like a shield, and she simply clung to him until the elevator opened and let them out on the ground floor.

Jill stayed pressed against his side until they reached the Jeep they'd driven in. She let go of his hand and climbed in the passenger side. He moved around and started the engine.

No one said a word until they were on the highway toward New York. It was Jill that spoke first, "...you let them take your goddamn job away."

He was silent, watching the road.

When he didn't respond, Jill tried again, "You let that stupid bastard set you up as a fall guy, Kennedy. Why? You said nothing!"

He did so again, eyes flat and forward. Frustrated, Jill gave up and stared out the side window as he drove. The Jeep was a Rubicon in brilliant yellow and sounded like a dragon as it roared down the highway.

After a long silence, she gave it one last shot, "...who was that idiot?"

To her surprise, he answered her, "Simmons."

Jill's brows flew up, "..._that _was Simmons? From the compound?"

Leon nodded and Jill mused, "...he's uglier than Sherry let on. Looks like a weasel or something. Why does he hate you so much?"

Leon shrugged a shoulder and kept staring forward. Concerned at his silence, Jill settled back to digest what had happened. Simmons had stripped Leon of all his power. He'd left him just an agent in the organization Leon had helped build from the ground up. He'd bumped him down to bodyguard for Adam Benford and left him disgraced in all the right circles.

Why?

It felt personal somehow, but Leon was as tight-lipped as he'd ever been.

His watch beeped and he turned it up to look at the message on it. His frown joined the shake of his head as he lowered his hands back to the wheel. As usual, he didn't say a word about whatever it had told him.

She tried again when they finally reached the penthouse, but he lifted a hand to silence her the moment the door opened. "Cortana - disable all out going transmission from the security feed and regulate to closed-circuit only."

"With pleasure. Should I block incoming signal attempts?"

"Yes. Install a firewall and prevent any leeching."

"Gladly." The AI sounded so chipper.

Jill started to speak again and Leon told her, "They didn't disgrace me back there, Jill, they set me _free."_

Her brows winged up and he clarified, "Simmons thought he was punishing me, but I never wanted to be the power behind the throne. I never wanted to do anything but fight bad guys and save people. I didn't ask to be the poster boy for the fight against bioterror. He just took the leash off the dog they'd been controlling all these years. He opened the cage door and set loose the monster they'd created. I'm not sorry...I'm relieved."

"...what?"

"I don't give a rat's red shit about Derek Simmons, Jill. I can move better, faster, and freer without him breathing down my neck. Today? He gave me a fucking gift by trying to destroy me. The same kind of gift Redfield handed me the moment he begged me to take you in."

Her breath sucked in sharply. She shook her head as he finished, "...let me show you."

Jill couldn't find a single word as he stopped in the kitchen and the leather of his belt whipped while he removed his shoulder holster and set it on the table. He turned toward her and his hands lifted to poke the buttons of the vest free one at a time. The red, red, red of that shirt looked like a silken hug on his tanned forearms. The vest fluttered to the floor and made her throat seize up.

She whispered, "...what are you doing?"

She knew. Of course she knew. It wouldn't help anything to let him. It wouldn't do either of them any good to indulge in it. She should stop him. She should deny it and turn away and try like hell to leave things on some kind of level of safe.

Instead, she just stood there with her mouth watering and said nothing at all.

He warned, softly, "Now's the time, kid...last chance to change your mind."

She didn't run. She simply stood there waiting for the next piece of clothing to fall.

His teeth flashed in a grin and he quipped, "Alright, kiddo...game over."

It was, she thought madly, he'd won.

She was just waiting for him to finish her off with his rocket launcher.


	28. No Hope: Part 2: Chap10

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Two:**

**-Where the Wild Things Are-**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: What Hurts The Most**

* * *

**Winter**

**-February 8th, 2012-**

**New York, New York**

* * *

Leon and Jill stared at each other in the kind of silence that usually predicated the pull of a trigger. At this moment, it was the pull of the truth.

He finally spoke and made her jump with it, "The report on the table while Simmons was grandstanding...it was your physical from when we got back to the ESR."

She blinked, "What-when...why does that matter? I don't understand."

He tilted his head at her, "You asked Rebecca Chambers to start you on birth control."

Her breath seized.

Her eyes flared and he nodded, "Yeah. I saw it. You think I cared about Simmons at that moment? You asked her to put you on birth control when we got back...why? If you were done with me...if you didn't want this anymore...why?"

She couldn't even find the words to answer him as he spoke rough and rumbling, "...you told them you were staying with me."

Her mouth went dry and her pulse thready when she shook her head. His hands shifted to the buttons on that shirt as he tugged it free of his slacks and toed off his boots. "Why didn't you run, Jill?"

She couldn't answer. Her back bumped the couch and she realized she'd been backing up as he undressed. What was she doing now? Making a liar out of herself? Was she going to run away because he was taking off his shirt? Because she'd asked to go on birth control to spare him the idea of her trying to get pregnant to buy her release from him?

Was she going to run because she wanted him to come after her?

It was almost comic.

The shirt opened over his torso and showed off that perfect washboard stomach of his as he reached for the button of his slacks and demanded, "Tell me what you need, Jill."

She had to clear her throat before her voice would emerge, hoarse and timid, "...freedom."

Leon gestured with his head at her, "You could have had that today."

Jill's hands shook as she pointed at him, "...no. Freedom from _you."_

She watched that bounce around on his steely expression, "Yeah? Prove it. The button on the collar is right there. Touch it, press it, and you're free."

Her hand lifted and slid against the collar. Her thumb touched the little button that had once promised to put her to sleep if she dared try to escape. She could press it, one little move, and be free of the chains, free of the slavery, free of the _man._

The briefs peeking from the open fly of his pants were blue. Blue, like his eyes. Blue, like the sky that framed the breadth of his shoulders behind him. Blue, like the world before he'd pulled her back from the edge of that roof and refused to give up on her.

His voice came again, low and vibrating, "Why did you stay, Jill? What do you need? Press the button, and you're free of me. I won't drag you back anymore. Go ahead. I release you."

Her hand trembled. They stared at each other in the gray light of a clear winter day.

And her fingers slid away from the collar without that one little press that would grant her freedom.

She didn't want it. She didn't want free of him. If she pressed the button, it wouldn't free her anymore from the chains he'd bound around her heart.

Damn him.

He watched her as she slid around the back of the couch instead. His head tilted. "...don't do it."

Softly, she dared him, "...you won't chase me. You don't want me anyway. You want me gone."

He just laughed at her for it.

He was looking at her like a hunter. There was something surrounding him in that blood-red shirt that was feral and scary and elating. She knew what he could do. She knew what he was capable of.

His answer made her blood beat wildly in her veins, "You're still mine, Jill. That collar? It means you're still mine."

"...I'm not something you can own."

He tilted his head, "No? You could stay without the collar, but you won't take it off. Why? You like being mine. Tell me I'm wrong. Run...see if I chase you."

Her voice hitched with excitement and some kind of wonderful fear - like the moment you reach the top of the slope before the roller coaster plummets you into the hardest ride of your life. "...you won't hurt me."

The flash of his teeth made her moan a little, "Try it and see."

Jill pushed off the couch in a full blown run. He came at her like a predator. The shirt whipped behind him like a tail or a cape or a flag waved in war. Her mouth made a cry of surprise. She ducked as he went right up over the couch and tried to tackle her. He hit the floor, rolled, and came to his feet to the block the door.

Jill cut right into the short stairwell to the pool.

Her heart was racing with some kind of excitement that made her feel _alive._

She didn't want him to free her.

She just wanted him to chase her, take her, and keep her.

Her feet pounded up the steps on the left lip of the pool and she yipped when he raced down the opposite side of it to intercept her. Jill ducked under his arm, elbowed him in the sternum, and rolled around his side as he grunted. She threw herself through the door as he laughed and tumbled down the narrow division to the mat in the gym.

As she ran, she heard him leap over the railing and land with hardly a moments difference between them. She heard him gain on her, lowered her shoulder and tackled the heavy bag as he came up behind her. Her body slid under it as it swung back and Leon was forced to catch it or get smacked in the face as Jill rolled to her feet and vault over the weight bench.

She yipped as he used the same bench to spring toward her, grabbed the door frame and swung herself around into the indoor gun range. She heard him hit the wall with a grunt as she ran for the far lane and went to slide under it into the main gallery. He didn't remember her being so goddamn fast.

It was actually pretty impressive.

Still, he was done playing with her. He stopped chasing her at half wattage and simply took her down. Before she could finish sliding, he caught her ponytail and tugged.

She yelped, swung around and went right into his attack zone. She tried to tackle him and his hand caught around her throat, lifted her off her feet which made her heart slam hard into her ribs and tossed her onto the counter of the first shooting lane. Jill gasped as she slid over it and fell to her back on the floor.

He cautioned, "Not bigger, not faster, not stronger...when are you going to learn how to fight someone who is?"

Her strength never failed to surprise her. He went ahead and slid over the counter after her as Jill tried to get to her feet and Leon landed beside her, hooked an arm around her waist as she scrambled to get up, and tossed her back on the counter. She landed on her butt, shouted once and would have tried to run again, but he didn't give her that choice.

He grabbed her outer thighs and jerked, pulling her forward on the counter and scattering spare rounds that were lined up for the next person to practice shooting. He surged between her thighs as he shoved the pencil shirt up and the fabric ripped loudly.

She panted and he almost looked angry as he instructed, "I would have killed you by now. I could rape you, hurt you, and kill you and you can't stop me...I'm gonna teach you how to stop me."

Her heart throbbed as she gasped, "...right now?"

Breathing harshly, he answered, "No...right now I'm gonna fuck you."

Lord -that filthy mouth of his sometimes made her throb.

Jill scrambled her hands behind her to brace, lifted her butt, and let him grab her panties at the hips. He didn't bother to pull them off, he just shoved them to the side and filled her full of his fingers. She shouted, her legs fell open as she bowed, and his free hand grabbed her throat to tug her to him.

Rough.

Desperate.

Her ripped skirt hiked up further as she slapped against him. She put her hands under that red, red shirt and stuck her nails in his back. With a grunt, he pulled his fingers out of her while she bucked and whined, and grabbed the jacket of her suit. She scrambled to let him rip it off her, she thrust her hands into his pants to grip his ass as he jerked open her shirt and sent buttons flying like shrapnel and he jerked the shirt down her arms until they were pinned to her sides so he could tug her bra up her chest and help himself to her breasts.

One hand cupped and squeezed and brought a breast to his mouth and his other slid up her throat to her chin and pushed her back. It bowed her up, it thrust her breasts into his mouth obscenely, she humped her groin toward his with a whine. His fingers curled around the collar and squeezed. He used it to tug her face to him and kiss her.

The desperation mingled with something raw and slow. When the kiss broke, her hands caught his face. Her voice shook as she whimpered, "I hate you."

He laughed. His breathy laughter made her skin sing. Smoother, softer, he tugged her shirt off and undid her bra. She caught his pants and tugged to send them pooling to the floor. Leon caught the rip in her skirt and finished the job, severing the fabric with a soft sound of defeat. His lips dropped to kiss down her belly while she leaned back on the counter and watched him. His lips paused at the edge of her panties, his fingers slid to tug them slowly down her thighs, and her legs opened completely when they were gone to let him between.

She fisted him over his briefs crudely. His fingers stretched her wetness to ready her. When she simply opened more for him, his hand slid down and settled over her belly. The moment lingered too long for him and a thought edged into the haze of want.

_Do you wish I was pregnant?_

She'd asked him that. She'd seemed so surprised. The shiver of regret had surprised him too. Why?

Because he was 35 and starting to question the rest of his life? Because he might be carrying around something in his blood that would make him a freak? Because part of him wanted to put his hand on her belly and feel the kick of life in there?

Maybe.

Yes.

To all three.

Damn it.

What if he filled her belly full of a baby and it wasn't...human? She'd gotten on birth control...had she done it to avoid the same thing? Did she know something about him that he didn't?

What had Ada told her before he'd come upon them in that hive?

Did Jill know that having his baby might produce a monster?

The thought was a boner killer if there'd ever been one. He froze against her, panting. She quivered, back arched, and eyes heavy. Her hands petted down his back, over his ass, and across his hips. She slid one hand around to stroke his stomach and up over his chest.

She slid her hand into his briefs to touch the slick head of his cock but he was still above her now. Motionless. Breathing hard, her eyes opened on his face.

She whimpered gently and shivered, "...what? What is it? You ok?"

As he stepped back, Jill trembled on the counter, "...Leon?"

He shook his head. He closed her legs for her and said softly, "...I'm so sorry...I need a minute."

Jill trembled where she lay as she watched him head toward the pool area.

She didn't have a clue what she'd just seen on that face. Anger? Why? He was such a complex man. She'd have given anything to be able to read his mind.

As he moved into the kitchen, Leon glanced down at his watch again. The message was simple, unadorned, and filled with more than a whisper in a darkened room - _Don't forget who your enemies are._

Who were they?

He wasn't sure he knew anymore.

* * *

**Spring**

**-April 11th 2012-**

* * *

At the stoplight, the Mustang idled while he waited for the red to turn green.

Leon's hand tapped lazily on the gear shift. In the back seat, the little gray kennel showed him the sleeping face of smoky colored kitten. Stupid. He was. He had to be. What else had possessed him to adopt the damn thing?

He'd been in a meeting at the BSAA Headquarters and ended up in a shouting match with Redfield that had resulted in Leon being summarily ejected from the grounds. He'd wandered on foot about three blocks and there was animal shelter hosting an adoption day. Kids, families, friendly faces and perfectly needy animals just looking for a home.

He'd stopped and crouched to put his hand into the little shabbily erected play yard filled with kittens. Some ran, some hissed and spit at him, and this one...this one just licked its paws and looked at him. When he beckoned it, it had given him a considering appraisal.

Above him, the volunteer girl had urged, "You should pick her up. She's friendly...she just takes a little bit to warm up. When she does, you won't be able to put her down."

Quietly, mouth quirked, he'd replied, "...I know the type."

He'd turned his palm over and greeted her, "Come on...I'm alright. You just gotta learn to trust me."

So the kitten had padded toward him, sniffed his hand, and finally bumped her head against his fingers. She let him stroke her, purred, and submitted reluctantly to his picking her up. As he'd held her against his chest, he'd mused, "...we've met before, I think."

The kitten had snuggled against his chest with sigh.

It took a minute, but eventually she'd trusted him enough to cuddle up to him.

So he'd lost his fucking mind and adopted her. As if he had room in his life for more complicated pussy. The thought made him snort with humor. He could have chosen to leave this one and he could have chosen to let the other one go.

Instead, he was bringing one home to meet the other.

As the light changed, the passenger door of his Mustang opened unexpectedly. Thinking it was a robber, he warned them, "You're about to make an attempt to steal the wrong fucking car, friend. Change your mind and run for it."

But it wasn't a car thief who slid into his seat - it was one who'd stolen his dignity a long time ago.

Ada smiled at him as her long legs crossed prettily against the black leather, "Long time, no see, Leon."

He rolled his eyes as he eased the car into moving traffic, "You have five seconds to give me a good reason not to hand you over to those cops at the corner, sweetheart. So you better start talking."

Sly smile flashing, she cooed, "Don't be angry with me. I was only trying to protect you. She's bad for you, you know, that blonde you bed. She's just as bad for you as I am, but she pretends she's good. She's going to use you, mark my words, and she's going to leave you high and dry or take you out when she gets what she wants."

He rolled his eyes, "Three seconds, Ada."

Her nails rubbed up his thigh lazily, "Hmm...how do you think you escaped?"

His left brow quirked as she purred, "Yes. I opened the elevator. Without me, you'd have died in that warehouse against those tyrants. I granted you freedom. I did that for you."

He eased the car to side road, put it in park, and turned in his seat to face her, "Don't waste time playing games here, Ada. What do you want? You and I and this dance? It's done. So just ask me for the favor, and get the hell out of my car."

Her hand on his thigh kept right on stroking as she smiled sweetly, "You're so angry with me. Why? Because I tried to kill her? I did that for you too. I hate to see you so wounded. She's Wesker's handmaiden, Leon. She's manipulating you. Surely, you can see that?"

His jaw tensed as he laughed, "And you're not?"

Ada shrugged delicately. Her hand stroked up his belly and along the crisp white tie, he wore. She slid her fingers over it like she'd done to his cock once. Her lips pouted at him playfully, "But you like it when I do. Her? She enrages you. Get rid of her and we can keep on playing."

Curious.

His shrewd gaze took in her whole face as he studied her. She was trying to get rid of Jill without killing her. Why? What game was this? Was she trying to get him to dump Jill in the street so she could have him?...or so she could have _her_?

His lips twitched, "What is it? The immunity? You want her blood?"

Ada leaned in to press a kiss against his limp lips. She stroked his tie and murmured, "She wants yours. Me? I want lots of things. Cut her loose and I'll show you."

There was a time, not that long ago, he'd have jumped at that offer. He felt like he'd been chasing some part of what Ada offered all his life. She was almost ridiculously gorgeous. She fucked like a paid professional and was wily, wise, and cunning. He knew what he'd been chasing once upon a time.

He wasn't sure when he'd stopped craving it.

She eased that hand up his thigh toward his groin and cooed, "Who's in _your_ blood, Leon? Forget her blood...who's in _yours_?"

And he didn't know when it had stopped being her either, but it wasn't. Ada wasn't in his blood. He could see her in front of him clearly for the first time. Just a woman, just an asset, just a spy. She would never be anything more than that.

For the first time, it was easy to slide her hand off his tie and tell her, "You and I are finished, Ada. This? It's done. From now on if you want something from me, you approach me like any other asset for an intel swap. You break into my place again and try to hurt her, and I'll show you how I get rid of someone."

The moment was thick. Ada, looking at his face, believed him. It was the first time he'd ever spoken without a flirting edge of desire between them. She'd let the thing with Valentine play out on the rare off chance it produced a child for her to steal as leverage to a better future.

She'd miscalculated how much he would come to care for the woman.

In all the years she'd known him and played him like a puppet, she'd forgotten he was a man beneath the carefully groomed creation of hers. He was a man. And the man had somehow fallen for the other puppet in the show. He'd cut those strings to her without her realizing it.

She'd lost control of him by simply doing nothing.

It turned out the heart couldn't be manipulated by cunning after all.

She knew the only way to put things back on track was to take care of Valentine. To do that, she had to give him another target to turn his eye toward so he'd stop looking at her. So she leaned back in the seat and stopped flirting as she told him, "...you want to look into Wesker for the attempt on her life."

Surprised, his brows shot up, "He's dead."

Ada shook her head, "Not that one - the other one. Project W made two living Wesker children. Albert...and a woman...Alex. She was ill, she didn't respond like he did to the conversion. She fled and went into hiding, but he was involved with her...from what I can find it was sexual in nature. She'd been attempting to conceive his child when Redfield destroyed him. She's out for revenge and she won't stop until she gets it."

He studied her as she grabbed the door handle of the Mustang and told him, "Don't be stupid, Leon. You burn your bridge to me and you'll end up drowning before its done. Don't let love make you a fucking idiot. Look at that bitch you're bedding and you'll figure out what really matters."

She slammed the door.

Leon sat there tapping the gear shift. Was he? Was he fucking dumb?

The kitten purred in the back seat as an answer.

He was.

He'd been so busy with Jill he'd stopped doing his goddamn job. Fucking her wasn't protecting her. He couldn't seem to figure out how to do one when doing the other. He should go back to his place and stop fucking her.

It was a very noble, very altruistic thought.

He was also man enough to admit it was one that wouldn't happen.

Honestly, he hadn't fucked since he'd run from her as if she'd been on fire. She'd never said a word about it. She didn't pressure him. She didn't push him.

He put a call into Redfield to start attempting to mend fences and get him digging on Alex Wesker. The argument had been livid between them. Chris was convinced Leon was keeping Jill from the world. He was sure she was under the other man's thumb like a prisoner. He couldn't figure out that Jill was simply not speaking to him for a multitude of reasons that were his faults, and not Leon's.

As he keyed himself into the penthouse, he found her on the balcony drinking some coffee in the cool spring sunshine. She wore just a slip of a dress in a soft shade of purple like fresh lilacs. Her long hair shivered in the breeze and looked like sunlight overshadows. Fucking her had compromised him. He hated Ada Wong for making him acknowledge it.

He hated Ada Wong for making him doubt her for it. What if she was fucking him in order to do just that? The birth control could have been a smokescreen. Was she trying to guarantee he keep fucking her without condoms by pretending she was on the pill?

Even the thought was too twisted for him to stomach. Ada was a nasty bitch with all her cloak and dagger suggestions. Damn her.

As he set the little kennel down and opened the door, Jill turned toward the sound of it. She saw him, her face lit in some kind of happiness that felt like the sunshine must have on her face, and he knew...he knew there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her. It hadn't made him weak after all, it had made him the thing he'd been bragging about since she'd met him.

It had made him bulletproof.

If she was playing him, she'd already won.

The second she saw the little kitten exploring around the living room, she froze. Her hand sat the coffee cup down on the terrace as she stepped inside. The cool air brought the smell of coming rain with her gasp of pleasure, "...what did you _do!?"_

He cocked a shoulder with a self-deprecating chuckle, "...lost my fucking mind I think. You think I'd have figured out pussy is nothing but trouble by now."

Jill crouched, the beautiful dress flickered in the breeze and flashed lacy white panties beneath, and she picked up the smoky kitten. It cuddled her, purring, and she declared, "I'm gonna name her Hope."

Surprised, his brows winged, "Why?"

Jill smiled and kissed the snuggling kitten with such a smile on her face that he just couldn't be sorry that he'd adopted the damn thing. Her answer made him painfully aware he couldn't be sorry he'd brought her home either. "Because you need some in this place...and you've always given it to me."

Jesus.

If she was playing him, she was better at it than Ada Wong would _ever _be. She'd pushed him right off a fucking cliff and into a volcano like she'd done Chris Redfield. If she was playing him, she'd managed to do what a thousand enemies had failed to do before her...she'd defeated him without lifting a fucking finger to do it.

They stared at each other for a handful of pregnant moments. There was something on his face Jill couldn't name. Some kind of emotion she wanted to call sadness, but that felt wrong too. What was it?

_Who's in your blood, Leon? _

When had it started to be Jill?

Without a word, he turned away in the suit he wore and disappeared into the bedroom.

Stricken, she murmured to the kitten, "...he'll come around, I promise. You're in the right place."

It seemed he was the one always running away these days. She didn't know what she'd done to push him away. Apparently, choosing to stay his captive was a problem for him. Did he want her to go?

She used the little bag of food he'd brought and filled up a bowl with it and water for the kitten. The small litter box was a covered and cute gold dome that ended up tucked into a corner of the library until she found a better location. Jill was just resuming drinking her coffee, watching the clouds gather over the sun when she started to wonder what Leon had gone off to do.

Pout?

Was he upset over the kitten?

What had that look been on his face?

The rain started to lightly pepper her face as Jill sighed with contentment. The sun was neatly tucked into a bed of stormy clouds. A soft rumble of thunder told her the light rain would turn heavy soon enough. She'd always been more at peace in the eye of a storm than on the edge of a perfect day anyway.

When the rain slicked her cheeks, she turned back toward the kitchen to leave it behind.

She froze where she stood instead.

What were all those whispers about him? Ghost. Spook. Specter. Silence in the dark that ended in death without a sound. He did that; he snuck up on you sometimes while you were sighing and enjoying a good rainy morning.

He rarely did it stark naked.

The names were right because she'd never quite stop being haunted by how beautiful he was.

Her breath caught. He stepped out into the rain and she just...lifted her hands to his face. The wet dress was cold on his warm skin as his hands caught her under the armpits and lifted.

The lounge chair was damp and ready when he laid her back on it. She smeared his wet hair back from his face and his hands roved up the outside of her thighs. The dress bunched at her waist, her legs opened to let him come down atop her, and the thunder grumbled in the steely dawn as they kissed.

Different somehow - the rain, the nearly tender touches and sighs and slide of skin. Different. How?

The look on his face in that apartment was the answer.

What was that look?

Her arms lifted of their own volition and the dress was peeled off her to fall to the balcony with a wet plop. Their arms curled and caught and combed against the other. His palms glided against her face, his fingers tugging back the damp fall of her hair to see her face. She echoed it, cupping her thumbs near his ears. A streak of pretty lightning split the sky above his left shoulder and they both just...took a moment to look at each other.

His left hand lowered and encircled the collar around her neck. He shifted his thumb to the release button and Jill shook her head: no. For the first time, it was her who wasn't willing to be set free. She needed the collar almost as much as she needed the thing that beat between them like the rain.

Hope.

It was something she hadn't felt in so long she'd forgotten what it was. It was so far gone in him by the time she'd come along he'd given up on the idea of it. He'd given it back to her on that rooftop in the rain when she'd wanted to tumble over and just let go. He'd given it to her inside that apartment in a thing so soft, small, and tender. Something for them to share. Something for them to love.

Hope.

She wanted to give it back to him on this rooftop - now -in any way she could.

Her thighs shifted around his hips. The rain dripped off his nose and onto hers. She lifted her mouth and his lowered. Her body embraced him, her hands clenched softly on his face, and they both surged toward the other. His forehead dropped into the crook of her neck and shoulder, Jill turned her face into his hair, they tried to see how much skin could blend as he took the hope she offered and found it inside of her.

The rain washed away the last of the regret and the fear and the resistance that made them both so broken. It cleansed as it aroused, offering tears of release that joined Jill's as she bowed, grasping, and Leon stopped bracing his hands beside her to just collapse against her. They clung as they moved together. Her arms wrapped over his back, his curled around her shoulders. Her thighs quivered, her feet sliding down his calves to find purchase and hold him inside her.

Hope.

It was something that spilled around them while they made love in the rain like something out of a movie. Because it was that, she thought as her body crested, as her mouth open on a soft cry of release and the orgasm made her shake like a seizure beneath him.

It was love.

It was the first time she'd ever made love to a man who needed more than just her pussy...he needed her heart.


	29. No Hope: Part 3: Chap 1

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Three:**

**-Puppet Master-**

* * *

**Chapter One: Assassin**

* * *

**Spring**

**May 14th 2012**

* * *

The last of the rain left foggy soft air behind it. Jill leaned on the railing naked and wet and happy. She was happy. It was a strange thing to feel it. It was the first real time she'd felt content since the moment she'd awoken soaked in blood with a dead orderly atop her in that recovery ward.

She was no longer trapped 96 floors up. He'd given her the choice. She'd chosen the collar and the captivity...and the captor.

He was sleeping on his back on the lounge chair where he'd loved her. She turned to look at him, setting her elbows on the railing of the balcony behind her. Scarred and perfect, his body didn't even show the damage he'd taken in the ESR. A curious thing, and one that needed questions answered to know how far down the truth was buried.

The scars on him...before or after his exposure to the plagas?

She was betting a bit of both. She'd also lay money on the fact that it was nearly impossible now to leave a mark on him without earning it. She'd earned it. Somewhere on him was her mark - you just couldn't see it with the naked eye.

She didn't know at what point she'd begun to accept that he was someone she'd fight and die for. It might have been the first moment she'd climbed on his lap in that living room and he'd let her take what she needed without wanting a damn thing in return. It might have been the moment he'd thrown her on her back and treated her like a woman he wanted and not a thing that he owned. It might have been the fact that everyone in her life had given up on her and he'd agreed to take her on, not out of loyalty to her or Chris or the girl he'd survived Raccoon with, but because he'd been just a little broken himself and being with her had been better than being alone.

Chris was somewhere in the world wondering why she was so angry at him. It was hard to explain. It wasn't jealousy over his relationship with Piers or his ability to move on when she'd given up her entire being to protect him. She would always love him for freeing her like he'd done in Africa. She would always love him for being the best friend she'd ever had before that.

But when the chips had been down, when she'd needed him to fight for her, he'd stood in that hallway with her at his feet begging him to believe in her...and he'd handed her back to the people who'd traded one prison for another. He'd given her to Leon Kennedy to take care of and washed his hands of her. He'd given up on her while hiding behind the fact that he'd begged for clemency and invited another man to care for her.

He'd given her away to Leon and never looked back. And Leon?

The breeze tickled his hair around his face. He was sleeping so peacefully that she was envious of it. He was the only other person she'd ever met who often slept fitfully, plagued by demons that he couldn't slay. Something in him was sated here. On this balcony, in this dreary light, naked and bare and beautifully peaceful...he was able to rest.

He trusted her enough to let go of everything and just sleep.

Chris Redfield had freed her body...but Leon Kennedy had saved her life.

He couldn't hear her. She didn't think he'd believe her anyway even if she could, but she whispered, "...I would jump out a window to save you...and I'd never regret it."

She didn't know how to thank him, or show him, or return the favor of a faith in her that she hadn't ever deserved. He'd lied, he'd panicked, and he'd done it to hold onto her. He might have been the only person in the whole world that wanted to.

And he'd brought her hope when there was none left inside either of them.

The kitten watched her from the door, licking her paws. Jill smiled and clicked her tongue. The smoky thing tilted its head, turned, and went off to find something more interesting. Amused, Jill realized the kitten was a bit like Kennedy himself when she'd met him - silently sitting there waiting for her to stop walking away.

She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that staying beside him was going to bring her more hope than running ever had. He wasn't an easy man. He was emotionally messy as any wounded warrior ever had been. He was half angry desperation, half eager need. He chased the idea of a woman who'd never done anything but use him. He'd been a boy in a bad city who'd become a bad ass in a twisted game with players who would take him, warp him, and make him into a machine...if they didn't realize he was still, under all of it, a man.

She thought she might be the only person in his whole life to see the man beneath the machine.

How he'd found pleasure beneath the horror of what had been done to her would never fail to make her covet the faith he carried that everyone was somehow good inside. It was such a blindly beautiful naivete you didn't expect in a man who'd seen and done and survived what he had. He still believed, without question, that the world was made of more good people than evil.

He believed anyone could be saved and he never, ever stopped rushing toward the promise of redemption for them. A bad ass with the soul of a savior who still touched her like a man who'd spent too long fighting and not ever enough time loving. It seemed, under everything, it was their greatest mirror of each other. Two wounded warriors without anything but the fight and a future filled with fear and loss.

How had they found something beautiful in the ruins of what they'd become?

She had no answers.

She had no words.

She only had actions.

Jill straddled his lap without preamble. Her hand slid down and cupped him. He was half hard in her palm before he was even partially awake. Without something like a groan, he thrust his ass up to help her as she mounted him.

There was that..._this..._that thing that happened when he let her climb over him and take what she needed. She took one of his hands and slid it up her chest. She laid it flat between her breasts as she moved. She brought to her mouth to kiss the palm of it and lay it against the side of her face like a hug somehow.

She wanted to say his name just to hear it, "..._Leon."_

A stupid name...for an incredible man.

He dragged her down enough to kiss her. Her hair spilled around them like a cocoon of gold. The other hand slid over her groin to touch her where their bodies were fluidly fitting together like primordial pieces of a puzzle neither could understand. His other fingers twisted and gripped her hair and held her face to him while he stroked her, stoked her, and felt her cum as her body soaked and seized his.

Jill whined, high and soft, "...oh.._god.."_

He was starting to believe in one every time he was inside of her, that's all he knew.

His hands released her, her body quaked and creamed atop him, and he commanded, "...go..."

She leaned up and she obeyed.

The damp skin and wet sky and fog obscured the world beyond her shoulders. Jill slid her hands behind her hips and down his thighs and her breasts jutted beautifully as her body absorbed his. Fuck, he thought while the cobwebs of sleep were burnt away in a blaze of bone searing need, he'd never get over the sight of her atop him like a succubus stealing his soul.

One of his hands slid up her torso, the other caught her hip to roll her in time with their bodies mating. His eyes flickered as her hair trailed over his legs. His pelvis surged, once hard enough to make her cry out and bow to take him, and he cursed her name from his teeth as he hit the spongy edge of her cervix and painted it with the power of his own release.

It hurt. It was insane. It hurt for him to cum in her. Hurt and felt like fighting his way through hell to hit the edge heaven. He grunted, Jill rolled her hips almost madly to swallow him into her, and she rose over his rocking body in a sirens dance of victory.

His hands guided that undulating, unequaled, unstoppable body of hers into a rolling rhythm as they both came down the other side. She arched back with her hands on his knees to finish her own orgasm. He didn't think he'd ever forget the sight of her in the fog and the dappled sunlight and the drizzling rain uninhibited and unbidden and unapologetic in her own pleasure.

She'd woken from her our nightmare and found a woman beneath a weapon. She'd woken him from a warrior to find a man. Part of him hoped she woke him like this every day for the rest of his life.

She was trembling while she took him. After a handful of seconds, he had to correct himself. It wasn't her trembling, it was _him. _Damn. That's how good it felt to be inside her. He was aware, in his bones, how lucky he was that she let him.

Later, he'd think it was sheer luck she'd woken him to ride him.

It probably saved her life.

The red dot slid over her chest an inch from his left hand. It lingered there for a handful of seconds before it went off. The echo of the gun was so loud it sounded like thunder as he rolled, rolled, and threw her to her back on the balcony while the heavy round took out a pot behind where her beautiful breasts had been bouncing just moments before.

He didn't let her panic, he just looped an arm around her grappling body and dragged her in front of him into the penthouse. The problem with having a penthouse comprised of too many windows was there was little cover when a goddamn sniper tried to take out the woman you'd been fucking on your balcony.

Naked or not, they both went into survival mode as if someone had thrown a switch.

Leon pressed Jill against the cabinets in the kitchen as another round tore up the floor where he'd rolled them to safety.

She clutched at his face whispering, "Who?! How!?"

She had a point. They were 96 floors up. Who in the hell could have eyes on them that high up?

He told her, quietly, "There was a helicopter going by toward Mount Sinai."

Surprised, she whispered, "You noticed that while we were fucking?"

Without thinking about it, he told her, "I notice everything."

Machine.

Even while the man had been inside her, he'd been the machine.

Jill made a small sound of fear as Hope the kitten emerged from her the bedroom to pad toward them in the kitchen. Leon shifted away from her and warned, "Stay here, Jill. I mean it."

"...they'll kill her."

The kitten padded closer as Leon clucked his tongue, calling her softly. She eyed him with that judgmental look and he invited, "Come on, sweetheart, don't make me earn it right now."

She padded closer, Jill reached into the cabinet behind her for a pot, and she nodded to him. He counted to three with his fingers, she tossed the pot toward the living room, and the glass wall shattered as the sniper went for the bait, Leon rolled naked down the hallway to grab the kitten, and another shattered the wall above Jill as he dove straight into the bathroom.

The glass rained down on the counter above her, the floor tossed up a chunk as it hit, Leon grunted as he disappeared from view.

Terrified, she yelled, "_ARE YOU HIT!?"_

His voice came back to her, heavy with pain, "Back left shoulder. _Don't you dare come out to check_! I'm fine."

She'd gotten him shot for the damn kitten. She was a bitch. She called, "I'm so so-"

"_Fuck _your sorry, Jill! I'd have done it anyway! You think I just sit around waiting for kittens to get blown away?!"

She yelled, "How bad?"

When there was no answer, she yelled louder, "Kennedy! _How bad!?"_

After a handful of seconds, he finally replied, "It's bad. It's still in there and I can't get what I need to stop the bleeding. The fucking medicine cabinet is surrounded by windows."

Jill, panicked, called back, "You fucking moron! Why do you have so many goddamn windows!?"

His laughter was wry and amused. He called to Cortana to get the authorities and instructed her to put in a distress call to the FOS for back up. Jill watched the pretty floor by the bathroom door snake a trail of blood toward her.

He had to be bleeding pretty badly to have it run out of the room like that.

Cortana informed them that help was on the way. Jill called, "Stay with me, Kennedy, ok?!"

Voice weak, he returned, "Why is it always Kennedy when we're not fucking?"

Jill laughed, afraid of the blood that curled slowly down the long hallway. He had to be leaning against the wall by the door. She called, "Who is it!?"

Of course, he thought vaguely where he sat with his left arm going numb and a kitten clutched in his right, he hadn't told her about Ada and the Wesker bombshell. So he answered, "You ever heard of Project W?"

The small gasp was answer enough. He filled the silence again, "Yeah..the other Wesker is trying to kill you for taking out her lover...brother. Her lover and her brother."

Jill's answer made him snort, "What is with Umbrella and incest!?"

"You know about her?"

"No. Wesker wasn't my confidante, Leon, he was my captor."

Leon. She had to be scared to call him that when she wasn't taking him into her. Woozy, he warned her, "I'm gonna pass out, Jill."

She shouted, voice breaking, "No! No! Leon...don't, ok? Stay with me."

He shook his head, not that she could see him, "I can't. I know my limits, honey, and this is it. When help arrives, try to cover my junk before they all get their pervy eyes on it, would ya?"

It was stupid, he thought wildly as the sniper rifle went off twice before she could answer, stupid to sit there talking. Stupid. The silence stretched until he shouted, voice echoing, "JILL!?"

"...I'm here."

Shit.

He jumped and his eyes shot open as she grabbed his face and crouched over him, naked and smeared along the shoulder and neck with blood. Panicked, he grabbed for her and she soothed him, "It's yours. It's not mine. It's yours...Leon..." Her hand slapped over his shoulder and pressed. It was a mess. She shook her head, "You get me hope and take a bullet for it...you should get rid of me."

He swayed but smiled at her, "...can't do it...I need you."

If he'd shot her between the eyes, she wouldn't have felt more shocked. No preamble, just confession. She hated how pale his lips were. It terrified her at the same as her heart liked the idea of him missing her.

She tried to keep him awake until help arrived. She curled behind him to hold him against her. She was still holding onto him when the cavalry finally surged in to save the day.

* * *

Covered in his blood, Jill sat in the waiting room watching a television drone quietly above her. She'd thrown sweats on while they'd take him out on a stretcher. She'd joined the ride in the ambulance and held his cold hand while machines worked to keep him alive.

The doctor had come out once to tell her it was a danger zone. The bullet had fragmented and caused damage to his lungs. A piece had lodged in the atrium of his goddamn heart and they'd had to repair the damage.

He'd brought her a kitten, saved it, and nearly died.

Her sticky palms looked pink in the fluorescent light.

The clock near the television told her she'd been sitting here for seven hours. The kitten in question was currently sleeping in the kennel beside her. They'd told her she was welcome to stay in the hospital with him when he came out of surgery, but that he'd be in the ICU for a few days and pets weren't allowed.

She'd take Hope to a hotel. She'd do that when she knew he was alright. She'd shower when she knew he was sleeping grouchily in a room like a wounded bear. He'd heal fast, she knew that better than anyone, he just had to get to the healing part.

What would she do if he didn't?

What would she do if he died?

She didn't get a chance to explore that thought because the doctor was coming toward her in scrubs splattered in blood. He lowered the mask and told her, "Looks good...looks _real _good."

And Jill allowed herself a single moment to weep in that room alone with relief.

He couldn't see her, he didn't know, so it was ok. _He_ was ok.

It was going to be ok.

* * *

The voices woke him from a fitful slumber. He roused to find Chris pale and angry in the doorway. The big man surged forward when he saw Leon blinking at them. "Kennedy...thank god."

Leon's mouth twitched up into a weak smirk, "Miss me?"

Chris didn't smile back. He snapped, "TerraSave had a fundraiser infiltrated. They raided the place and killed dozens. The ones they didn't kill were taken...Claire was there and Barry's daughter, Moira. There's...we can't-" The big man trailed off before he could finish, "I have to find her. I need to know where to look."

Drowsy, Leon tried to rally his thoughts. He was so drugged up it was hard to hold onto a clear one. He finally queried, "...Raided?"

"Yeah. Yes. Jill is out there making phone calls to anyone who might know anything...but listen..." He shook his head as grief settled on his tired face, "Your place was hit...Claire was taken...and Sheva Alomar...she's-someone took her out."

His brain tried desperately to make sense of any of what the other man was telling him. "...Alomar?...why?"

"I don't know. A car bomb right in the parking lot of the Embassy in Mauti Kifo. Just her car. Just hers. How? Who? What the hell is going on here? Who would have access to information to be able to to make a hit on all of you in the same eighteen-hour window?"

Leon hated the grogginess of the drugs as he slurred, "...I don't know. Claire is dead?"

Chris shook his head, vibrating with anger, "No. Not Claire. Sheva." He spun around to shake the doctor by his lab coat, "I want him clearheaded, you nasty little pimple, or I'm gonna find out if you can practice medicine with a stethoscope shoved up your ass."

"Chris!" Jill appeared in the doorway to knock his hands away from smaller man. The doctor scrambled away and she shoved on his chest to back him up, "Ease down. Right fucking now. He almost died. You won't hammer at him for information he doesn't have."

"I have to find my sister!"

"I know that! You think he knows where she is? He's been getting holes in his goddamn heart sewn up. So let him heal and leave him the hell alone."

"...I don't have time for him to heal!"

Chris grabbed her arm above the elbow and Leon's voice from the bed was hoarse but hard, "Take your fucking hands off her."

Chris let go of her arm and Jill soothed, "It's alright, Leon. It's fine. He's just scared."

Voice raspy, Leon remarked, "He can be scared without hands if he touches you again."

Touched, Jill still shook her head, "You can't even get out of that bed right now, tough guy, let me handle this pissed off bag of rage and just let your body rest."

She guided Chris from the room as Leon wavered back and forth from conscious to out of it. He heard them argue and then toss around ideas. Jill was quick and eager and intelligent.

His brain latched onto things about the attack at the Vineyard and the one at his penthouse. Both times, they'd been after her. Hadn't they? The red wavering dot on her before he'd thrown her to the ground hadn't fired.

It had fired at him.

Why not her?

Someone wanted to take her. Someone wanted to spare her. Why?

There was a voice beside his ear as he dangled into the shimmering veil of sleep. "She's bad for you. When she's done with you...she'll leave her knife in your back. Stop being blinded by her vulnerable lies and see the bitch beneath. She doesn't have to wear red to be one."

Ada?

Was she there?

Was he dreaming?

What was she saying here? That Jill wasn't the target at all. That Jill was the orchestrator of all of it? That she was working with the other Wesker? Was Alex Wesker using Jill like a sleeper agent to take out Albert Wesker's enemies?

Was Jill fucking him to keep him blind enough to let her use him for intel?

Into his ear, that sly voice urged, "...get rid of her, before she gets rid of _you."_

He came awake gasping. Jill's hands landed on his face and she soothed, "Shhh. It's ok. It's alright. I'm right here. I won't leave you."

Shaking from pain killers and confusion, Leon slurred, "...Wesker..."

Jill felt her brow furrow. She stroked his sweaty hair and shushed him again but he shouted, "Wesker!"

Her lips pressed against his brow. She hummed softly to him until Leon went limp, turning his face toward her neck. He trembled, murmuring, "...are you?"

Jill pressed her lips to his temple as she ran her hands against his hair and neck to pet him, "...am I what?"

His feverish eyes pulled back to see her from inches away. She felt good and soft and smelled like rainwater and hope. How could she be anything but good? He'd wondered once if she was. Was she? Was she bad?

So, he asked her, voice breaking with pain, "...Wesker's? Are you?"

Her soft expression tightened. She gripped his hair hard enough it made the drugs swirl around enough to clear his eyes for a moment as she swore, "I was _never _his. Never."

Leon swayed and felt his eyes roll in their sockets as he mumbled, "Not his..._hers."_

Did he think she was in league somehow with the girl Wesker?

He sagged against her as Jill eased him back to the bed. Hers? What did that even mean? What conspiracy brewed in the head of a sleeping genius high on barbituates? She pressed a hand to his jaw to feel the flutter of his pulse.

Steady.

Someone wanted her dead. Leon had come in to tell her something when they'd fallen on each other like hungry things. What? What had happened on his way back to the penthouse?

He was clearly hearing things about her. Sheva Alomar was dead. Claire was missing. Somebody was making moves against them. Who? Why? And what did Wesker have to do with all of it?

She rose from the chair to let him sleep and left him to recover while she started finding answers.

* * *

**Summer**

**June 2012**

* * *

It took weeks for Claire to turn up in the ocean floating and wounded and alone.

The last of all the people taken to an island to be a rat in a cage for a madwoman.

Moira Burton was still missing, Claire was hospitalized for a week and a half while she recovered from injuries, and the story she told about what had happened there were so far fetched that it was hard to believe.

Unless you'd survived worse.

From his own hospital bed, Leon worked like a terrier to find the answers. Jill brought him anything she could dig up and they spent hours in that small room tossing ideas and tracking leads. According to Claire, Alex Wesker had died on that island, but she'd had investors and connections and fingers already in pies that were still waiting to be eaten by the wrong people.

Leon was oddly distant as he worked. Jill got the feeling there was something she wasn't being told when he resisted even the smallest sign of affection from her. He wasn't cold, but he wasn't warm either.

Did he blame her for the bullet he'd taken? She couldn't explain it, but thinking he blamed her made her feel worse than anything had in a long time. When he pushed his glasses up on his nose and shifted in the hospital bed, Jill finally asked the question she'd been chewing on for weeks.

"You mad at me?"

Surprised, he glanced up from the laptop in across his thighs, "...what?"

"You won't really talk to me, you don't really look at me...you blame me, don't you? For the kitten and the attempt on my life. You blame me."

His eyes scanned her face. The silence stretched out for far too long before he returned, "No, I don't."

He looked back at the computer. Jill stood there with her eyes wide and not blinking. He did. That's what that silence was. He blamed her. He blamed her for all of it. She understood it. Hell, she blamed _herself_...but it didn't hurt nearly as bad as knowing he thought this was all her fault too.

Without a word, she left him alone in the hospital room.

As she left, Leon closed his eyes and blew out a hard breath. He wasn't sure what he believed anymore. He opened the email someone had sent him that morning - it was photos of Jill in her battlesuit burning down villages and slaughtering men. She was bloody and feral and often beside the man in the sunglasses who'd tried to end the world. It wasn't her.

But it was.

It_ was _her.

Was she his Jill? Or Wesker's?

The thought gave him pause. His? Did he think of her as his? He'd claimed her in that damn kitchen like some kind of savage and didn't even finish fucking her in victory. Was she his?

He wasn't fool enough to lie about the love they'd made on that roof. It was love. It was love inside him for her. But who was she? The vulnerable thing that he'd brought back from the edge of the abyss? The badass bad guy that had slaughtered in the name of a megalomaniac? The avenging angel of a woman who'd leapt to her death to save her partner? Or the woman working with Alex Wesker to overthrow the government and control the most powerful country in the world?

He hated Ada for making him doubt her.

He hated himself for making sense out of the doubt she'd sewn in him.

As Jill left him alone, he picked up his phone and spoke softly, "Hunnigan...I need you to find anything you can on Jill Valentine's time with Albert Wesker."

Hunnigan returned, "Her captivity? That's pretty limited, Leon."

"...no. Her time with him before she died. I want to know how close they really were."

Hunnigan came back to him with a small nod, "Happy to. How's your recovery?"

"Fine. I'm just trying to find the threads here between everything. Somebody is pulling strings - with the other Wesker dead, I need to know who else was involved with her. We never saw a link between her and her dead brother. How deeply did they bury the others?"

Hunnigan worried her lip for a moment before she finally informed him, "I can reach out to Adam about getting in touch with some of Wesker's connections before he died. He was in bed with some pretty shady characters though, Leon. I'm talking about dictators and other dignitaries that we can't go after because of all the political red tape. We are pretty sure he was sharing intel with a handful of suspected leaders of terrorist cells."

Leon touched a photo of Jill rising off the body of a man who's chest she'd just flayed open. Blood flew around her as only arterial rupture could produce. She'd slaughtered him. She was a weapon in the hands of one Wesker.

Was it a far cry to think she'd was a weapon in the hands of the other?

"Do it. Get anything you can on her...and start digging into Ada Wong."

Hunnigan's brows launched up, "You're associated with her? She's on about ten lists herself as a person of interest."

It was time he stopped playing his cards close to the vest and started finding out about the women in his life that were attempting to chop off pieces of him. One of them was trying like hell to get him killed...the other?

He needed to determine exactly who he could trust.

"Anything you can find on both of them. Send it securely to my encoded hand held."

"You bet...just take it easy for me, ok? I would miss your hair if it went six feet under."

He laughed, shaking his head. He brought up a picture of Ada taken from a satellite feed in Monte Negro. She was in sunglasses and a burka. She was sitting at a table with a very blonde, very dead Albert Wesker.

Jill was standing like a sentry against the wall beside them.

They'd interacted during her time with Wesker. They were both at his side for one reason or another. Which one was the one who'd been forced there...and which one was the one who'd chosen it?

It was the first time in his life he was going to use every resource he had to find out.


	30. No Hope: Part 3: Chap 2

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Three:**

**-Puppet Master-**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Commitment**

* * *

**Summer**

**July 8th 2012**

* * *

The more he dug, the less he turned up on Ada Wong. Her trail that Hunnigan, using the entire network of resources offered by the US government, was able to piece together was less than ten pages total. The more rocks he overturned, the more rocks waited beneath them.

Jill's life before Raccoon was a series of bad foster homes and group living that read like a Charles Dickens novel. Unwanted, unloved, tossed around until it was clear she'd never had a real home before she'd landed in Raccoon City and become the partner of a man with a long history of insubordination and mediocrity. Redfield had never excelled at anything. He'd never failed either, he'd just run the middle road until Wesker had tossed him up as a favorite for command and brightened his path to greatness. An accomplished sniper, Redfield had a long-standing history of ignoring the rules.

Jill excelled in them. Her superiors constantly praised her good behavior and teamwork and the ability to adapt and overcome. She was a woman with skill and grit and guts. She was a wizard with hand to hand and had never met a safe or a lock she couldn't defeat. She was a munitions and demolitions expert and exceptionally good at improvisation.

Honestly? She was the most impressive candidate in the entire S.T.A.R.S. lineup. Why hadn't Wesker favored her over Chris? The fact that she was female? From what he could find, Leon realized she was the most squeaky clean person probably in the whole of the RPD. It made him feel almost ashamed for digging so hard into her.

He picked up the file on one of Ada's aliases - Mei Ling. A red sarong and a bikini on the body a woman on the arm of a man named Abu Achmed, an Arabian arms dealer known to have ties to the Taliban. He was suspected to have been in bed with Wesker over the production of a line of B.O.W.S. that had been secured off Excella Gionne's Tricell plant in Africa. Why was Ada with him?

Leon glanced at the next photo in a stack of them. It was Achmed surrounded by people on a terrace somewhere in what appeared to be Pakistan. Lahore Fort could be glimpsed behind him in the skyline. The picture was mostly innocuous. Just faces and swirls of color and a suggestion of a setting sun...and Jill.

Leon froze. The tiny suggestion of her in the corner of the party held his focus. He set down the picture and pulled the second from the stack of them. This one was Achmed moving toward a small garden with Ada left behind to watch him. The camera stayed on Ada but Achmed was still seen in the background.

Jill was in a burka being dragged into an archway of lighted moss. You wouldn't even have noticed her if you weren't looking for it.

Leon picked up his communicator and tagged Hunnigan to get him anything aerial for footage from the exchange. After a handful of minutes, his email beeped and he flipped open the video feed.

Ignoring Ada who was in conversation with two men, Leon zoomed the focus in on the garden. There was no sound, but there didn't need to be. The video was enough. Jill was thrown against the fountain in the garden. Excella Gionne stood out like sore thumb in a shining silver gown while the rest of the women at the party wore traditional muslim garb meant to hide their beauty. It was easy to find her and Ada among the guests as they were so bright in a sea of black.

Jill struggled against the hands that gripped at her. Excella and Achmed spoke quietly until he passed her something in a long black case. She nodded and jerked her head at the men holding Jill.

To her credit, Jill fought. She shouted and jerked on her arms. She broke the arm of the first man who grabbed her. They finally caught both of her arms behind her back to hold her still. The burka she wore was cut at the neck by a knife and jerked open on her body to expose her.

She was naked beneath. Naked and pale in the dying sun. She screamed. She struggled. One of the men fondled her groin while she resisted. She spit in his face and he slapped her, open palmed and hard. Leon felt his jaw clench so hard he thought his teeth might break.

Jill kept jerking on her arms as the burka was pulled off her completely. She tried to run but the two men managed to subdue her. One hit her so hard that Leon didn't need sound to hear her nose break. Bleeding all over her chest and bare breasts, she was dragged to the fountain and thrust down on her knees. Her hands were tied behind her back while she shouted.

Achmed stepped up to expose himself. He angled his dick at her face and grabbed her hair. The second he tried to put it in her mouth, she tried to bite the damn thing off. It was brave and it cost her.

He backhanded her so hard she went to her side on the ground. His hands caught her hips to jerk her ass into the air and shove her face into the ground. One man stepped on her face to hold her there as Achmed mounted her from behind. He spread her butt cheeks open and spit down the crack of her ass. He didn't bother to fuck her like a man, he fucked her like a coward.

There was nothing in the world like the rage Leon tasted as he used her. He wasn't gentle. He sodomized her while she jerked and vibrated with rage. Her bound hands and her face with her ear to the ground and boot on it trembled with some kind of fire that impressed even as Leon felt a huge well of sympathy for her.

When he finished, he kicked her to her side on the ground while the blood pinked down her thighs from his assault. It didn't take a medic for it to be clear that he'd torn her rectum with the force of his rape. Excella smiled happily as she came toward the woman heaving on her side.

Jill's face was wet with tears of defeat and rage. She tried to fight back as she was jerked to her knees and her hair tugged back. She shouted and Excella slapped her so hard it made the men holding Jill wince.

While Jill struggled, Excella shoved the thing in her hand against her chest. Jill's scream was so loud that even the utter silence of the video feed couldn't hide it. Blood sprayed as Jill jerked as if she were having a seizure.

He knew what had been in the case. The scarab. The thing Wesker had purchased to install on her chest to control her. As Jill bled and screamed and spastically fought against it, Wesker emerged from the edges of the feed. He leaned against a column as Achmed spoke to him quietly. They shook hands.

The video cut off with a dazzle of white noise.

Into his ear, Hunnigan said softly, "That's all there is...I'm so sorry for her."

Leon said nothing.

She spoke again, "Do you think she really came to serve him willingly after that? If he'd wanted her to serve him...why would he use her like that?"

Because he didn't want her to serve him willingly. He wanted to break her and make her do it anyway.

"Do you think she worked with him like some kind of ...stockholm syndrome?"

No. He couldn't. He just couldn't make sense of it. His heart just wouldn't accept it. He finally returned, "Find out who Ada was talking with at the party. And find out where in the world Abu Achmed is."

Softly, Hunnigan warned, "Don't be stupid here."

He stared at the face of Wesker and Achmed shaking hands over Jill's utter erosion as he said, "I've been stupid plenty of times in my life, Ingrid. This is the smartest thing I've ever done. Find him."

He clicked off.

He rose from the desk in the hotel suite and moved into the bedroom. Jill was sitting on the bed watching a cooking show. They'd been gentle to each other since he'd been released from the hospital, but they both knew it was distant here.

She glanced up at him in a little tank top and shorts with her hair in a high ponytail atop her head and that collar around her neck that made her his. She smiled softly and told him, "Chicken with thirty cloves of garlic...what do you think? You game?"

He plucked the remote from her fingers. She made a small sound of want as he climbed on the bed. She hurried to her knees to meet him halfway and her arms looped around his neck. His curled around her back and hips to lift her against him. His hands slid down and cupped her butt.

The image of her rape slid behind his eyes and made his hands tremble as he held her.

A little worried, Jill mused against his neck, "...what is it? Are you ok?"

The kitten purred happily and weaved around them as they clung. He couldn't understand how she'd survived what they'd done to her. She'd not only survived it, she'd come back from it to let a man touch her like this.

No. Not a man. Not just any man.

_Him._

He was going to make sure he went around the world and flayed the flesh off the bones of every man who'd touched her.

He leaned back to look at her face and vowed, "...I'm sorry, Jill. For everything. All of it. For what happened to you...for what happened when you were finally set free...for keeping you for so long when I should have just let you go. I'm sorry. I'm gonna do everything I can to make up for it."

Her heart.

It hurt a little. It hurt and thudded and had her hands catching his face. She shook her head while her eyes sparked wetly, "_Leon..._don't ever apologize. Don't. I'm alive because of you. I meant what I said in that room at that table...I'm _alive _because of you...I can never, ever, ever thank you enough for it."

He put his forehead against hers. She clutched him with her thumbs near his ears. The kitten purred and rubbed against them in love and worship.

It was a good way to end a bad evening.

She slid her hands against his back and he shook his head at her. Surprised, she whispered, "...you don't want me?"

His laugh was tinged with something she couldn't name as he returned, "There's nothing I could possibly want more in the world...but right now? I just want to hold you for a minute. I just...I just want to hold you. Is that ok?"

Ok?

It was the best feeling she'd ever had to say, "...absolutely. I've missed you."

His mouth turned up in a smile. He pictured her screaming for her life on her knees and knew why he kept on fighting. He knew what he was fighting for...for people who couldn't fight for themselves. Ada was right...all he had to do was look at Jill to figure out what mattered.

Without anything but bald honesty, he returned, "...goddamn...I've missed you too, kid."

Gently, she offered, "What do you say we spend a little time getting to know each other when one of us isn't trying to run for the hills?"

He took his hands off her ass and put them on her cheeks to mirror how she held him and agreed, "Abso-fucking-lutely."

He wanted to know her. He wanted to love her. He wanted to trust her. He wanted to earn her. He was done letting Ada Wong overshadow his whole life and make him wary of her. It was the last fucking time he would ever doubt her.

And the first time he knew he'd use every power he had at his command to avenge her.

* * *

**Fall**

**September 30th, 2012**

* * *

It was a helluva thing to forgive someone in the form of a commitment ceremony.

She came. She sat. She watched Piers and Chris exchange vows. It was surreal. It was almost stupid normal. It was Chris Redfield committing himself to another living person. It was almost comic.

It wasn't.

He was so happy.

If he'd ever loved her that way, Jill didn't think he'd have been so happy. She hugged him while everyone cheered and rice was tossed around them. She hugged him and took his face to kiss him and told him, "...be happy, you stupid fuck."

He'd laughed and held her close, returning, "Tell me you forgive me, Jilly Bean."

She'd clutched him, eyes wet, and answered, "I forgive you." Her eyes landed on Leon over that big shoulder. He was shaking hands with Piers in a black suit with a blood-red shirt. He'd come back from that assassination attempt like a madman. She rarely saw him while he was out there trying to track down Alex Wesker with a bloodhounds determination.

What had Chris told her once?

You never want an angry Leon Kennedy chasing you.

But _god _she did. She really, really did. Her heart sped up just thinking about it. She wanted Leon Kennedy to chase her.

What a difference a few years made.

They'd been so good the last few months getting to know each other. They'd learned and talked and kept their hands to themselves. They still trained and touched when it suited them, but it was never more than almost chaste.

Like dating when they might have been young and innocent once. He liked classic rock and did a fantastic Bon Jovi impersonation of Livin on a Prayer. He was really good at baking and managed to get the quiche to rise every time. He smelled like vanilla and fresh laundry and storm clouds. He liked to write his own music and stuck a pencil in his teeth when he was thinking. He was the best fucking Jenga player she'd ever met. He loved the rain. When it rained, he liked to hold her in the big bay window of the little cottage they were renting. She'd sit with her back against his front and her cheekbone on his collarbone.

He seemed to know when she was crying. Sometimes at night, she'd try to hide in the closet and cry. He bought a keyboard to play for her and soothe her. The first time, she came out of the closet and curled at his feet, but he'd picked her up and held her on his lap while he played. He wouldn't let her lay at his feet. He wouldn't let sleep there. He wouldn't do anything but pick her up and put her beside him.

She talked about everything. She told him about her childhood and her father and her favorite Winne the Pooh doll that someone stole at the group home when she was four. He never made her feel stupid or weak or boring. She cooked and cleaned and played with Hope. She helped him try to track down anything he could on Alex Wesker and her associates. She told him about her time in Delta and the first time a boy had put his hand on her breast uninvited.

She'd laughed, sadly, "I nearly broke his wrist...pretty far fall to the girl who became a cum dump for Wesker, huh?" She tied to make it a joke. She turned to find him behind her at the stove. He shook his head. She felt her eyes well up as she confessed, "I tried...I swear to god, I tried to stop them. I tried."

Like she was trying to convince him. Like she just wanted him to believe in her. He'd simply wrapped his arms around her and she'd buried her face in his chest as he grumbled, "You don't have to talk about it."

She'd clutched at his sweater and murmured brokenly, "...it's stupid to be ashamed...I know that..I do...but there it is."

To which he'd admonished, "Don't be ashamed. _Ever. _You survived, Jill...don't let them take anything else from you. Look at me."

He'd caught her face to turn it up to him. She'd tried to lower her lashes and he'd shook his head and commanded, "Open your eyes."

When she did, trembling with wet, he'd said harshly, "You are safe now. I will never let anything happen to you. Never again. Be proud that you survived, Jill, and don't let them have another fucking tear. They've gotten all the tears they're ever gonna get out of you."

She'd collapsed against him and let him hold her while she'd cried softly. She hated the crying. It was weak and stupid and feminine and wasteful. What good did crying do? But she always felt better when she did.

And he never let go of her until it was over.

When Leon turned and caught her looking, he winked. She didn't. After a moment, he tilted his head like he could hear her thoughts or something. She kissed Chris' grizzled cheek and added, "...I love you."

Chris?

Or Leon?

Both. She could admit it to herself. Both. One as the best friend, one as the best of both worlds - the one she'd lost and the one she'd found.

Chris hugged her tight and gushed, "I love you too, my girl. I've fucking missed you."

She'd missed him too...and somehow? He'd given her the greatest gift of all. She'd hated him for it once. Now? She couldn't help but love him for it.

The handful of women gathered around the gift in question were vultures to a fresh kill. Jill let the sting of jealousy bring a simple simmer of contentment somehow into her belly. She got it, after all this time, she got the feeling of it. She understood women and how they reacted to him.

When the hug broke, Jill crossed the pretty garden where they'd come to celebrate the love of two men for each other. She shimmered in the pretty orange dress she wore the color of good tangerines in the summer sun. Smiling at her, Leon mused, "It's true after all. Gay guys have way better style than the rest of us. How does anyone make an ugly garden look this good? I'm betting it was Piers. I can't see Chris having any sense of color coodi-"

Her hands caught his face. She went on tiptoe to do it. There was no resistance, no stiffening, no moment of stillness. Her mouth settled on his, his arms looped around her to bring her into him, and it wasn't over quickly. It was possessive.

When they finally came up for air, her feet dangled a little off the ground from where he'd lifted her against the front of his body.

The people were all eerily bereft of sound around them.

The faces of most of field of bioterror were watching them in stunned silence.

Quietly, Leon murmured, "...you just let the cat outta the bag here, kid."

Jill wasn't smiling back at him. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. There was some intensity on her that moved him to silence as she returned, "I had to stake my claim."

His brows arched. His mouth twitched. He almost laughed but something made sure he didn't.

They didn't stay to see the happy couple off to their honeymoon of sorts. They opened the door to the little house he'd rented in the quiet middle of nowhere outside of Washington D.C. and flipped on the soft light by the door as he finally filled the tense quiet that had fallen over them, "Why are you angry?"

Jill kicked off her shoes. She shook her head. She went to check on Hope and crossed through the charming cottage to the back door let the cat free to roam. It was a simple two bedroom with a single bathroom. It was isolated but still a short commute to town. Simple enough to defend against snipers and far enough away to not risk civilians.

The colors were cotton white and yellow - from the pale couch to the perfectly spotless walls. The wood was hand-scraped and maple, the counters and cabinets in the kitchen the soft blue of good denim. It smelled like pine sol and felt like the vineyard. She adored it.

As she emerged into the bedroom to shed her dress, he leaned in the doorway with just his shirt on and left unbuttoned over his chest and slacks. "Jill? What is this?"

She reached for the zipper of her dress and he beat her to it, sliding it down until the dress tumbled with a sigh of crinoline to the floor at her feet. The pantyhose were simple, the underwear she wore classic black and unadorned. The ass and tits in it? Breathtaking.

Jill leaned perched on the edge of the bed to peel the pantyhose off her legs and finally spoke to him, "Why do you always find the women everywhere you go? If you were in place that hadn't seen pussy since the dawn of time, you'd managed to find a harem to hang around you."

Leon paused before he spoke. What was that in her voice? She sounded grumpy and a little miffed. Why?

After a moment, it struck like lightning as he guffawed, "Are you jealous!?"

She gave him a murderous look as he pushed away from the door frame and came toward her. With her eyes narrowed, Jill warned him, "Don't you dare!"

Leon caught her foot as she started to flee away from his grinning amusement and he caught her ankle, flipped her over, and came down atop her on the bed. Her eyes flashed blue fire as he teased, "...I can't help it, Jill. Women cream their panties for me whenever I walk by. They beg me to fuck them, they offer me money, they propose marriage on tabletops and weep when I walk away. I'm a walking sex tornado. I fart charisma and pheromones. I make girls wet with just a smile. I j-"

He _oofed _as she made a valid attempt to knee him in the crotch. Thrilled, pulsing with it, he admonished, "Hey! Don't hate the playa, kiddo, hate the game. I'm a man...I love the ladies. I try to stop them, but they just chase me through the streets like Fuckenstein trying to keep me for their own. It's not my fault my ass is fab-"

She nearly got his balls that time until he sandwiched her angry legs between his and grabbed her wrists to pin them over her head. "You're mad at the wrong guy, princess. I'm a wet dream in Calvin Klein underwear. I'm a billboard advertising orgasms by the sight of me. I'm j-"

He neatly avoided the head butt she threw at him. "You better stop trying to hurt me, Jill. I can't help that you're jealous. It's not my fault. I'm a catch. They all want me. I have to fight them off with a stick and hide in closets when I go to dinner at people's houses. I'm in the Sexiness Protection Program. I-"

She nearly humped him off her to the floor before he laughed and tugged. They went to their knees on the bed with her snapping, "I'm gonna punch you in the balls! You think this is funny!?"

It was sometimes a mystery to him how Chris Redfield hadn't done everything in his power to make this woman his. Jesus. She was incredible. He wanted to see how jealous she'd get before she took a swing at him.

So, he said, "I have to fuck them occasionally, Jill. It's a service to the community! It's the right thing to d-"

"I'm gonna enjoy killing you!"

He grinned as she tried to hit him again. He knew what she was doing. She wanted him to paddle her. He couldn't shake the image of her being used in that video. He didn't want to hurt her and bring up any memories of that.

If he'd known about it, he'd likely never have paddled her that first time. Did she really enjoy it? There must have been something on his face because she taunted, "What? You can fuck all the other girls in the world but not me? You're such a cuck."

His eyes flashed and she smiled slyly, "Yeah. You sure you even know how to fuck? I bet you do it on top of those girls like a lazy loser. They probably do all the work."

"...I dunno, princess. I'm too busy plowing them into the mattress to care about their effort really."

She jerked her arm free and swung it at his head, he caught her wrist and pulled, and she yelped as they twisted around until she was face down on his lap. He gripped a handful of her ass and squeezed while she humped against his thighs.

His dick was hard like she'd reached into his pants to stroke him. He tugged those serviceable simply panties up the crack of her ass and used them to rub obscenely at her eager little mound. She made a sound of excitement and taunted, "...you pervert!"

"You talk so sweet, Jillian Marie. You flatterer."

"Maybe you should get one of those other girls you're fucking to coo and flirt with you! What do I care?"

Jesus Christ he adored her. She was a mouthy wasp tongued witch who'd cast a spell of obsession all over him. He hiked her hips up and bit down on her perfect left ass cheek. She cried out, wiggled her bottom, and shouted, "..._god..._you disgusting freak!"

Yep. He loved her. "Don't call me names, sweetheart."

"No? Why not!?"

The second his hand struck her bottom, she jerked, gasped, and moaned. Yeah. He didn't understand how anyone _wouldn't_ want to keep her. Her white panties damped visibly where they were wedged against her eager cunt. He was gonna fucking cum in his pants just looking at her like a horny kid.

As she started to struggle against him, he spanked her again and vowed gruffly, "It's just you, Jill. You know that. It's you. It's you and only you. You know that." His hand came down again, she arched into it and made a sound like a mew, and he added, "...but I love the jealousy on you. Do it again."

Trembling, she promised, voice thick, "...you touch anyone but me again and I'll cut your hands off."

He had to be fucked up to love that kind of possessive response. He had to. Instead, he promised, "...ditto, kiddo."

He jerked her panties down and spanked her bottom pink while she moaned and writhed on his lap. When she whined, he stuffed her full of fingers and spanked her again. The moment might have turned into the best fuck of his life...until it just...didn't.

Fuck was the wrong word. What was the right one here?

She turned her mouth and his came down. The kiss was somehow desperate. She peeled his shirt off and he rolled with her as they shed clothing and ended up sideways on the bed with him between her thighs.

She grabbed handfuls of his hair and jerked until he grunted as she told him, "...I won't share you. Do you hear me?"

His hand slid between their bodies, he guided himself against her slick opening and promised, "You won't have to. Damnit woman, when are you going to trust me?"

As he started to claim her, she surged up and stopped him. His hands slapped onto the bed beside her head to brace himself and Jill whimpered, "...what was she?"

His brain wasn't working right. He was throbbing to split her in half and drowning as he groaned,"...who?"

Shivering, Jill gasped, "Ada. Ada. What was she? She made it clear you were_ hers_."

He froze. He leaned up and let the desire abate enough to focus on what she was saying. They stared at each other from inches away as his voice came again, low, clear, and almost cold, "...I was _never _hers. She made damn sure of that. She's a means to an end, Jill. An informant. That's it. That's all. She hasn't been in my bed for a long time. She won't ever be again."

Jill trembled, her hips rolled and his sticky dick smeared against the waiting lips of her eager entrance, and they both parted lips at the pleasure of it as she whispered, "Even if something happens to me...you have to promise me that. Swear it. She'll be what destroys you, Leon. Don't let her. With me, without me...don't let her."

His hands shifted to her face. He gripped her hair like she had his and almost growled, "I don't want her. Not here. Not now. Not ever again. I was _never _hers."

Her hands slid off his face and down his corrugated sides. She caught his hips and demanded, "...show me."

Leon shifted. His arms hooked under her knees. He spread her open beneath him and watched her face when he buried himself in her with a single stroke. His hands anchored on her breasts and his back arched to bring him down to suck them into his mouth while he stretched her almost slowly with each push of his girth into her tight sheath. Jill rolled up to kiss him over her breasts. He made a groan of hunger as they both sucked on her eager nipples together. Their wet tongues twirled and delved into open mouths and across the blushing tips of hungry tits.

His hips lost their rhythm. She felt him shove so hard it slapped and her mouth open on a high pitched scream. When she quivered, he pulled out of her so fast it left her dizzy. Her body tightened as she whimpered and he simply threw her legs over his shoulders to replace his dick with his mouth.

He sucked her and fucked her with fingers and tongue while she squeezed her breasts in her eager hands and laved her nipples for him. It was probably the dirtiest thing she'd ever imagined. She pleasured herself while he pleasured her. He watched her up the line of her belly and she watched him while she sucked eagerly on herself and he sucked her puckered clit.

She didn't know how many girls he'd gone down on in his life, but he was the most eager person in the world at it. He watched her body and face for signs. He found spots in her and rolled his fingers and made her jerked, hump at his face, and her thighs spasm. When he felt her tighten around his stroking tongue, he rose up to his knees, jerked her up toward him and shoved a pillow under her butt. She blinked and almost asked what he was about and then he shoved into her.

The angle put him right at her cervix. It hit and hurt and turned into something sharp and searing and incredible. He only went out to the tip and pistoned his hips roughly into the throbbing walls of her body twice before she grabbed wildly for him, slapping his chest and shouting as the pain and pleasure crashed into one perfect thing in her heavy groin and burst her apart like a hand spreading her open.

He was so deep in her that she looked to see if her belly button was bulging from the tip of him taking her. He clutched her hips to force her down on him until his balls brushed ass and she soaked his whole pelvis while she came and he filled her up until she was full of him. He was in her from balls to brains to blood. He was inside of her. He was the only man who'd ever been inside of her.

And she did the best she could to make sure she was the only woman inside of _him_.

* * *

_"You're losing control."_

She snapped as she kicked over the pretty display of flowers in front of her. The party behind her had no idea. She as there to steal and manipulate. She was there to take back what was hers. "I'm not. I know what I'm doing."

"_Do you__? You've lost your leverage."_

"I haven't." Ada's voice was soft but determined, "I know what game I'm playing."

"_...get rid of the girl."_

The call clicked off. Ada cursed and dumped the phone back in her little hand bag. Leon and his fucking dick. He was supposed to get rid of her himself. What did she have to do to make sure that happened here?

The girl in the equation wasn't supposed to be a wild card. She was supposed to be predictable. She wasn't supposed to fucking _love _him. It was ridiculous. Love was a waste of time.

What the hell were they doing wasting hers on it?

Stupid man. Why couldn't he just _behave _and stop trying to make her earn him again?

She started to make a call to get rid of the goddamn Valentine woman when she realized something. Keeping her alive might just be the key to the whole thing after all. What if keeping her alive spelled out an end game she hadn't even anticipated?

What if pussy had power after all?

Not hers...but Jill Valentine's. What if she could leverage that stupid heart of his into the final victory? Jill Valentine might just have the keys to the power right between her goddamn thighs.


	31. No Hope: Part 3: Chap 3

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Three:**

**-Puppet Master-**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Revenge, Avenge, Avowal**

* * *

**Fall**

**October 31st, 2012**

* * *

**United States Embassy, Western Conference Room**

* * *

At the table, the President of the United States and the man in charge of his perpetual safety sat opposite the blubbery face Abu Achmed. He was accompanied by two stalwart guards in blue suits. The mustache and beard of the fat Arab prince obscured his huge teeth as he talked.

Adam spoke gently, quietly, and like a President. His presence was respectful, his tone diplomatic, his responses programmed toward peace. He was a man speaking to another about the affairs they might share in the Middle East.

Beside him, Leon simmered with repressed rage. The gaze of the other man settled over him where Leon perched with the chair flipped backward while he straddled it and his arms draped over the back. A disrespectful, lazy, and clearly rude amount of body language. He'd done it on purpose. He knew a man with the kind of culture that Achmed was often versed in generally meant "subordinates" like Leon were meant to sit in deference and positions of inferiority. That Leon was dressed in the most casual of attire was the nail in the coffin to man who based his life around social rules - the slim white and blue mock turtleneck hoodie, the deconstructed jeans, the scuffed brown boots- all of these things were a slap in the face to a man who felt like subordinates should dress in suits and ties.

It was like chafing his ass raw to be summarily treated like a he was nothing. Leon didn't even bother to do anything but smirk at the muscle with him. Did he think big meant better? Achmed had put his hands on the last woman he'd ever touch. He just didn't know it yet.

Achmed finally stopped talking to Adam to glance at the file on the table. Jill's face stared up at him. It was a nice moment. The surprise flashed across his fat cheeks as Leon broke his silence, "Yeah. Familiar, isn't she?"

Achmed shrugged and denied, "No. One American is like the next to me."

"No?" Leon hit the button the remote on the table. The large television beside them flickered to show the footage of Jill's rape and subjugation. Achmed's face showed nothing as he looked at it.

"You think this is me?"

Adam returned, "Oh, Prince Achmed, we know it is."

Achmed finally shrugged and accepted it, "You can do nothing to me. She was chattel, traded in barter for the device that Wesker sought to control her. Her worth expired when I finished with her. It was business."

Leon started to speak and Adam laid a hand on his hold his silence as he told Achmed, "We don't treat our women like chattel here. We don't often appreciate our citizens regarded as a commodity. You're protected by diplomatic immunity so Im unable to personally hold you accountable for what you've done, but there are still ways for us to guarantee you no longer do business with this country. I have pulled any contracts with your overseas paramilitary organizations and thrown support to your opposition. It won't be long before you are taken out of power and replaced. That's how we make our enemies pay in this country, Prince Achmed."

Achmed slammed his fist on the table, fuming, "You are making a huge mistake. I am not a man who takes betrayal lightly. I will show you what it means to value one whore over an empire."

Leon kicked his chair from beneath the table. He flailed his arms wildly and went to his back. The two muscle bound guards came around like they'd take him down and Leon rose, kicked up the chair he'd been sitting on into his hands like a bat and swung it. The first man got an arm up before it hit him full force, the second made a grab for Leon in the ensuing madness, and a quick twist of the wrist to hyper-extend the elbow with a kick to the back of his knee sent the man to the floor howling in pain.

He was warned, for all the good it would do, "Stay down or I'll finish it."

The man didn't stay down. He tried to rise.

Before he could fight back, Leon broke his arm at the elbow and wrist, the bones snapped wetly, and Leon kicked him to his face on the floor as the other man came at him with a piece of the shattered chair. He swung, the air whistled as the piece was diverted to the side by Leon's lifted hand that swept it away and he headbutted the guard for the effort. The hit echoed, the man's nose broken in a squirting crunch, and Achmed shouted, "Enough! You can do nothing! I am protected from persecution!"

Leon kicked the guard in the gut and sent him sliding over the table to dump onto the floor and hit the wall behind it. As Achmed turned toward the door as if he'd run, Leon laughed, "You think I'm here to put you up on charges, you stupid piece of shit?"

Achmed shouted, "Mr. President! You cannot allow this!"

And Adam returned, "Allow what? This room is secure, Prince Achmed. The only thing I know is that you offered first blood."

"Liar!" Achmed shouted in rage, "You are a liar!"

Leon didn't bother to wait. He caught the man by his expensive suit jacket along his back and slung him against the door. The fat bastard hit, shouting in rage, and Leon spun him around to throw him against the door again. "Better a liar than a fucking baby killing rapist. You sell BOWS to Belikova for mass production?"

Achmed's eyes flickered in fear as Leon shook his head, laughing with raw anger, "Yeah, you did. It might not be today, you disgusting piece of shit, but I'm gonna enjoy watching you die."

Achmed shouted as Leon swung drove a knee into his balls and followed it up by punching in the face as he hunched forward. It put Achmed on his back as Adam rose calmly and came around the table. Leon put a boot on the cowering face of the second biggest bio-weapons arms dealer in the Middle East and informed him, "Run. Shut down production and run. See how far you get before I find you." He flashed Matilda in her holster on his thigh. Achmed whimpered as Leon ground his boot against his face, "I'm gonna fuck you to death with this girl on my hip right here. The bad news? She blows a load that'll leave those bowels bloody."

And that's when the second most powerful bio-weapons dealer in the world pissed himself in fear.

He kicked the fat rapist in the belly as he backed up. Adam laid a hand on his shoulder and soothed, "I can't let you kill him. Not here and now."

Leon nodded, trembling with stifled anger as he backed off, "I know. I don't want you tied to his death in any way. I'll handle it."

He turned as Adam allowed the Secret Service in to clean up the mess. Beyond the room, Leon spoke quietly, "...Adam, thank you. I know this was risky."

Adam laughed and shook his head, "Risky, my ass. That was the best thing I've seen in days. I wish like hell we could pull it off more often without hitting eighteen yards of red tape."

They both smirked. They shook hands and Adam told him, "I'm glad you're here, Leon. I'm sorry like hell for what brought you here."

So was he.

It was time to go tell Jill about what he'd done and what he'd keep on doing until it they were all dead.

His phone beeped as he leaving. The anonymous message made his brow furrow: _Someone else is watching her. The demons are inside the walls._

He knew all about demons. He'd been battling them his whole life. He was going to make sure the ones haunting Jill never touched her again. He didn't need a message on his phone to tell him to slay them.

* * *

When he'd brought her in to live with him. She'd done her level best to run and hide and hurt. If he'd have known the moment he'd woken up to his hair gone and his life in ruins, that he'd come through the door to find her dancing...he'd have told himself he was living in fantasy land.

The ponytail high on her head trailed down her back to her hips. The sweater of his she wore over those white cotton panties was oatmeal gray and waffle weave. It fell off one shoulder while she shimmied at the stove with a spatula in her hand.

The music from the living room was some kind of pop thing with girls singing about being breathless. The kitten was sitting on the counter purring and watching him as he came through the back door of the cottage. Jill sashayed those hips into a rhythm and dipped, she stuck her butt out and rolled her back and came back up, and turned.

She yipped and threw the spatula in one move. He caught it, tossed it back to her, and had her grinning as set it on the counter. She crooked a finger at him and he just couldn't do anything but smile back at her.

She wondered if she'd ever get tired of looking at him. What had she thought the first time? That he wasn't her type. Lord. He was everyone's type. The slim fit on that hoodie reminded you he was all muscle under it. The slouchy black sock hair that hid his hair to cut the fall chill made him look like James Dean and Keith Urban had a love child. For a handful of seconds, she thought he'd just keep leaning in the door frame watching her.

And then?

He just started dancing. Her laughter was high and musical itself. He was pretty awful at it, but she was guessing that was on purpose so she'd have no choice but to laugh. He pumped his fists in some mad interpretation of Chris versus the boulder and had Jill trying to keep from collapsing against the counter with laughter.

The second he caught her hand and tugged her into him, he stopped dancing like a drunk frat boy and started dancing like the guy she'd seen at the party that night. He swung her around. She came back like a boomerang and let him dip her. When he spun her out and twirled her, she ended up with her back to his front.

Into her ear, he murmured, "I think this song made me gay, Jill."

Jill shook her head with a chuckle, "This song is incredible. Your dancing, however? Awful."

"Hey!" His mouth settled against the place where her neck and shoulder met. She shivered and let his hands guide her hips against him. "...I think we're doing ok."

Her head turned to give him greater access to her neck as she sighed, "...hmm...keep going, I'll let you know."

He should tell her about Achmed. He should get her to tell him the names of the others. He should tell her he was going to hunt them down one by one and castrate them. He should tell her about Ada and find out what she knew about her involvement with Wesker prior to his death.

He should do all of those things.

His hand slid up under the sweater she wore instead to cup her breast. She completely collapsed back against him as his other one went right into her panties to finger her. He kept right on guiding her hips against his to the music while he did it, proving, of course, that there was nobody with better rhythm after all. Every damn thing he did was like dancing.

Fighting. Fucking. Fingering girls. He was just rhythm and skill. Which made her kind of hate him at the same time she bowed and submitted to him. Her right hand snapped down to grip his wrist as she gasped, "...the eggs!..Leon...the eggs are burning!"

And now he laughed. He just laughed and lifted his mouth as she turned her head as he told her, "...fuck your fucking eggs, Jill. Jesus."

She opened her mouth, he kissed her wetly, and his hand squeezed her breath hard enough to make her buck against his fingers. His thumb found her, she squealed a little into his mouth, and she came. Fast. The same song was still playing as it had been when he'd come inside.

Less than four minutes.

It had to be a record. As she sagged against him, quivering, he knew he should tell her about so many things. There was no time for this, for them, for dancing and fingering and fireside fucking. There were so many things waiting for them to uncover.

But he didn't stop her from turning. He let her sink to her knees on the cold tile. He took the sweater off her to see her breasts as she helped herself to his dick and he held her ponytail while she swallowed him down. He should have focused on things besides her watching him up the line of his belly as she tried to take him all down her throat.

Instead?

He just watched her go. The slick saliva all over his cock glistened in the soft light. She put her hands on him to guide him in and out of her mouth. His free hand played with her tits while she did it.

There was no time for this.

What did she call him?

A cuck. He was. He was a cuck. Because he didn't care about anything but her. Right there, at that moment, she was the only thing he wanted. When her right hand cupped his sack and she put her lips flat to his groin to fully consume him, he finally grunted, "..._fuck..."_

He didn't mean to but he pushed her against him when he came. He gripped her ponytail and held her there. She choked a little and the shame of it had him releasing her almost immediately. "Shit! I'm sorry, Jill...shit..." His voice was hoarse with the release.

He was still spurting enough that he groaned at her throat constricting around him. He started to pull her off him and she shook her head, gripping his hips to bury him back in her throat. When he nearly collapsed against the counter, she finally released his pulsing dick and licked all over his slit until she'd gotten it all. The kitten seemed to be judging them where she watched like a smoky colored voyeur on the counter across from him.

As Jill rose, she reached for a hand towel and dried him off before she poked him right back in his pants and zipped him up. He was still half leaning on the counter when she asked shyly, "...it was good? It was ok? I don't really-it sounds stupid but I've never done _that _on my own, ya know?"

On her own.

Because it had been forced on her under Wesker's care.

The anger speared back into the wonder of it all. He caught her hips to tug her into him. He palmed her ass and she looped her arms around his neck to hold him as he told her, "You're incredible, Jill. Incredible. Don't you know that yet?"

She was, in those white panties and those thick white socks, she was incredible. That she wanted to fuck a man at all was incredible. He should tell her about Achmed now. Now was the time.

Now.

But she'd been dancing in the kitchen.

He just didn't have the heart to stop the dancing.

As she dipped and picked up her sweater and turned back to the stove, she mused, "...the eggs are ruined."

The eggs. Hers? He studied her butt in those panties. Why did he keep thinking about her eggs? It wasn't like he could fertilize them. He was still waiting on blood work to find out if anything he had was potentially now genetic.

She smiled at him over her shoulder and urged, "You gonna stand there? Or are you gonna help with breakfast?"

He ranged himself behind her at the stove and hitched her butt against his groin while she laughed and teased, "I don't think that's helping at _all!"_

It was. It was all helping. She was so happy. He just wished he knew how to make it so she was never anything but happy again.

* * *

He was gone for three weeks right after Halloween. She started to be worried he'd been killed in action or something when he'd simply come through the door of the cabin filthy, bloody, and a bruised. He didn't say a word.

He just dropped a black bundle on the table in the kitchen and went to the fridge to get some water. He was in a heavy tactical vest in black riddled with holes. As he turned, the patch on his arm said BSAA.

Her brows lifted as she wondered, "...what the hell happened to you?"

When he said nothing, she picked up the wad of black off the table and unwound it. When she shook it loose and found it was ragged ripped and sagging, he finally spoke so raspy and hard that she winced, "...made friends with Redfield...turns out we had something in common after all."

She stared at the rags of black until he finally finished, "...you."

Jill turned toward him clutching the rags and whispered, "...what did you do?"

He blew out a hard breath and finished the bottle of water, tossing it into the sink. When he was silent, she asked it again, louder this time, "What did you _do_?"

To her surprise, he gruffed, "...what needed done. I got rid of a few parasites."

He started past her and Jill dropped the rags to grab his sweaty arm. When he kept going, she jerked on his arm and made him turn toward her. He was so tense with anger. She grabbed his face and held it when he resisted as she demanded, "You kill Achmed?"

He said nothing. She gripped his ears and pressed, "You kill him?"

His mouth tilted up into a sneer as he confessed, "Yeah, I did. I stuck this up his ass and fucked him bloody while he screamed." He gripped the hilt of the knife on his vest and she beat him to it. She jerked it clear with a whoosh of cloth.

"This knife?"

"Yeah. That one."

They stared at each other with a pulse of tension until he added, voice vibrating, "Not just him either. He did a lot of talking before he died in his own piss and vomit weeping like a pathetic sack of shit. He told me all about the men that Wesker traded you to."

Her heart was tripping hard in her chest as she hissed, "All of them?"

"All of them." Their noses brushed as he threw the truth at her like a grenade, "Chris and I teamed up to take down the rest of them. Turns out? Redfield's reputation is well earned. He can punch a fucking hole almost through a goddamn car door. And he doesn't back off. He just steam rolls over the top of anything in his way."

Jill's breasts were heaving. Curious about it, he tilted his head, "You wanna yell at me? Wanna call me a monster? Wanna tell me it wasn't my place?"

Before she could answer, he shouted, "You're still mine!"

She trembled and he grabbed her arms to shake her a little, "You're still mine, Jill. I will kill anybody who puts their fucking hands on you. I don't care if you agree or not. That's what it means to be mine."

She dropped the knife to the floor with a clatter. She grabbed his vest and shoved him into the wall and made him grunt as she vowed, "...the same goes. Do you hear me? _The same goes_. I don't care that you killed them. I don't care about them at all. They got all they're ever going to get from me...but what happens to me if you go out there and die getting revenge? I will not risk you for them - for _anyone - _ever."

They stared at each other until she shoved him again and demanded, "Say you won't take that risk again."

His jaw flexed and she slapped his face. It was a nice moment. He hissed and showed his teeth. He grabbed her arms and picked her up while her feet dangled. She gasped and her eyes flashed as Leon growled, "Hit me again."

She laughed, trembling, "You freak. You like that, do ya? All that killing make you hot?"

He tossed her and made her squeak in surprise as she landed on the couch with a bounce. Her throat was dry as he told her, "Protecting you makes me hot. Take off your fucking pants and lean over the arm of the couch."

She shivered. She started to resist and then she turned and tugged her panties down to do just that. His hand came down, the smell of gun oil and sulfur and fire was thick in the air. He spanked her while she whimpered and moaned like a whore for him.

And then she held him down on the couch and fucked him while he stank of the blood of her enemies and revenge.

It wasn't healthy. It was dark and dirty and somehow cathartic. It was the nature of what they were: a mess that had somehow made something worth fighting for.

After he'd showered, he found her watching the rain in the living room. Without a word, she lifted the book in her lap and he laid there between her legs with his head on her belly. She stroked his hair.

He cupped her hips and said, "...tell me how you really feel."

To his surprise, she petted his hair and confessed, "...grateful."

His lips turned and kissed her belly. She cupped his face to lift it so she could kiss his mouth.

He'd set out to destroy all the men who'd used her.

It was the best gift anyone had ever given her.

She studied him where he lay on her and finally asked, quietly, "...did you ever really love Ada?"

Her fingers stroked his face, tucking along the cleft in his chin as he mused, "She's not something you love, Jill. Not really. She strung me along because she's beautiful and clever, and knew I had some quirks she could exploit."

The pad of her thumb traced his mouth as she urged, gently, "...like?"

"Like sitting on a table without panties with her goddamn heel on my chest to keep me in a chair while she fingered herself. Like refusing to let me fuck her with a condom, but not letting me cum in her. Like never letting me on top of her."

Jill paused and he nodded, scanning her face, "...yeah. That first time you climbed on my lap, that was all she ever did. She never let me above her. She never let me inside her, not really. She toyed with me...and I just...I let her."

Jill scanned his face and he sighed, smiling sadly, "...cuck, right?"

She tugged him up. He went and her legs opened to let him between them until he'd pinned her against the back of the couch. She held his face and looped her legs around his flanks and asked, "Is that what you want? You want me to make you a cuck?"

His hands twisted in her hair. He tilted her face back to kiss her. She moaned softly as he leaned back and said against her lips, "No, Jill. I don't feel like a cuck when I'm inside you. You? You just make me feel like a _man."_

Her belly quivered as she demanded, breathlessly, "...why?"

"Because you let me take you. You let me have you. You make me earn you...and you let me protect you. I never loved her...because she never let me be anything but a toy."

Jill clutched at his face and breathed, "I'm really scared of whatever this is."

He looped her close until they were hugging and confessed, "Me too, kid. Me too."

* * *

**December 24th, 2012**

* * *

Jill woke up on Christmas Eve with something she hadn't had in years - a fever. She was so confused by it at first that she almost panicked. She was a little woozy and weak as she tried to make a cup of coffee.

Leon found her on the couch under a blanket with the mug in her lap and her lips pale. He touched her forehead and told her, "...you got the flu, sweetheart."

She shook her, sneezed, and accepted the tissues he poked into her lap, "...no. Nope. I haven't been sick since Raccoon City."

He patted her head as he headed for the door, "You are now, kiddo. Sleep and I'll bring you home some soup."

She didn't even argue. She just went to sleep.

It was the worst Christmas ever. She received word from Barry that Chris' entire team had been wiped out in Edonia by an unknown foreign agent. Only Piers had managed to survive to bring him to safety. Chris was wounded and recovering in a hospital in Moscow.

When Leon returned from duty, he brought her soup and flu medicine. She fell asleep curled against him on the couch while he worked on following leads on Wesker's contacts through central Europe. She put a pillow on his thigh and just went down for the count.

When she woke up gasping, she found herself naked in a lukewarm bath. She fought so hard that he had to get into the water with her to pin her down before she calmed enough to realize she was safe, she was fine, and she was burning up with fever.

He held her in the water and soothed her, "It's ok, baby. It's alright. You're ok. We gotta get the fever down. Ok?"

Jill sagged against his chest, he held her until her breathing eased.

She woke in the morning with a headache and a painful cough. A trip to the doctor had her getting a chest x-ray to find out she had pneumonia after all. She was given a course of antibiotics and told to take to her bed with plenty of fluids.

* * *

**_Winter_**

**_February 14th, 2013_**

* * *

It took her about ten days to really get back on her feet. She'd missed New Years and all the festivities at the White House and been curled up in their little cottage while Leon had traveled with Adam to various locations for speeches and holiday cheer.

When she was finally better, she accompanied him to Tall Oaks to scout the Ivy University campus for a speech Adam was planning to give regarding America's defining role in the BOW crisis.

It was a gutsy move and a big one. It could end up screwing up trade agreements and severing ties with foreign operations by exposing those who were involved in the sale and trade of them. He was going to own up for America's part in the cover-up of Raccoon City and Harvardville. He was going to expose the administration for their involvement in full-scale sanitation to hide their own culpability.

He was going to make the people involved take responsibility for their poor judgment. It was the boldest step taken form a political standpoint in the history of the war on bio-terror. He'd simultaneously alienate some allies and cultivate new ones in a single stroke.

Jill ended up with another bout of pneumonia the first week of February that put her back in bed. Concerned, Leon had her examined, scanned, poked and prodded by every doctor from a gynecologist to an oncologist until Rebecca finally laughed, "She's human, Mr. Kennedy, just human. Us humans? We get sick."

Ten days of antibiotics later and she was back on her feet and felt better than she had in weeks.

She helped Leon set up security on the campus with his happy acceptance of the offer to help. The Alma-mater of the most powerful man in the Western world was a beautiful and sprawling place. The auditorium itself housed over a thousand people. The heavy and happily decorated room was lined with tables and prepped for dignitaries and other members of high levels of importance.

There would be a lot of really significant world leaders gathered to listen to the President point the finger of blame at his former colleagues.

Jill watched Leon prep security and direct his team. He was efficient, he was quick about adjusting plans with the idea of foot traffic and exposure, and he was good at being in charge. Impressed, she tilted her head to study him.

He was direct and patient. He was really, really good at being in charge. He'd been Director Kennedy once and told her the title and the job hadn't fit him - but he was lying. It did. He could drop the title all he wanted, but he was born to lead. He had the presence you couldn't teach in an academy or a school. He was a man who knew his job, knew his men, and knew his worth.

He wore it like he wore the pain and like he wore the leather. He was a machine and man and leader. He just was.

As he came toward her, his brow was furrowed in irritation. The black leather jacket he wore made him look like a rock star among FBI agents. As he approached, she asked him, "What is it?"

He shook his head, "Something feels off. I can't put my finger on it. I have this place locked up tighter than a virgin's chastity belt...but I can't shake that sixth sense that tells me I'm missing something."

Her hand petted the leather of his jacket on the left arm. "You've done everything. You've checked and double-checked and triple checked. I've checked too. You're good here. He's safe. Three weeks from now, it would take a fucking idiot to attempt to try to infiltrate this place and wreak any kind of havoc. The President is safe in your very capable hands. Let's go home and eat and sleep and let these other overpaid government worker bees handle the shut down for the night."

She was right. He was being stupid. He was being overly concerned. He was just being himself - the man who was never able to just stop worrying.

So he put aside the reservations and did just that. He said goodnight to his team and went home. He was being ridiculous. Nothing was going to happen but the start of a new day when it came to bio-terror.

Adam Benford was about to change the world.

* * *

The phone rang in the quiet dark.

Fingers picked it up with a clunk of sound from the cradle.

"...yes?"

_"It's happening. He can't be dissuaded. It's time to decide where your loyalties lie."_

The silence stretched into the woman spoke softly, "You know where my loyalties lie. I want absolute operational discretion."

_"...you have it. See that Derek Simmons understands the error of his ways_."

Her laugh was rich as she returned, "Oh...you don't even need to ask."

"Spare the agent, Ms. Wong. His blood is valuable."

Ada sighed as the sheet shifted and bared her perfect breasts to the moonlight on her blood-red bed, "I'll spare him...but I want the woman."

"She's yours. So is the discretion to do whatever is necessary to secure your position."

Ada smiled wolfishly and replied, "I do love the pleasure of working with you."

"We feel the same. Goodnight, Ms. Wong."

She was also going to enjoy the pleasure of cutting ties with them when it was over.

Ada set the phone in the cradle. She stared at the canopy of her bed with a shiver of excitement. With Simmons gone, the risk to her plans were minimized. She needed him gone to break into the final stage of her plan.

She needed him gone to secure the White House. Her hand slid down her belly, it tucked between her legs to stroke herself. It wasn't Leon's face she pictured as she brought herself to orgasm; it was his father's.

She'd used one Kennedy to get her the power to take control of her life, she'd use the other to take control of the White House.

Leon Kennedy was about to become the reason she took control of the most powerful army in the world.

It turned out, there was power in the pussy after all. Ada's had made him stupid and Jill's? Jill's would make him a martyr so Ada could finally, finally, finally cut the chains that bound her and be her own master.

She was wet and tight around her fingers as she moaned, thighs clenching, back arching and she came harder than she'd ever done before picturing herself behind the desk of the Oval Office with her puppet in place before her.


	32. No Hope: Part 3: Chap 4

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Three:**

**-Puppet Master-**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Confessions, Obsessions, Possessions**

* * *

**Winter**

**-February 18th, 2013-**

**Tall Oaks**

* * *

The dinner was supposed to be just the President, the Vice President, and the Chief of Staff with their families. Leon knew the old man would spend the evening hating on everything from his hair to his suit, but it was something you had to tolerate when you were the son of the VP and the Chief of Security for the POTUS. He was just tucking his pocket watch into the waist pocket of his vest when he called, "Jill? You need to hurry up, princess, or we're gonna be late. All I need is for the old bastard to have another reason to be a douchebag."

"How's this?" Her timid voice had him poking his wallet into the breast pocket of the suit as he turned toward her saying, "He's always such a jack-"

Everything he thought he was going to say fell right out his ass and turned to ashes on the ground. The dress was the misty blue of a spring sky. It was strapless and trailed like silken clouds around her legs as she walked. There was enough of a slit that it flashed one thigh with each step. All of her blonde hair was curly, loose, and everywhere around her back and shoulders in a waterfall of gold.

She had little earrings dangling from her lobes that flashed diamond bright as she came toward him. She froze as he did to simply stare at each other. The suit he wore was charcoal, pinstripe, and reminded her of a 1940's gangster. It was so utterly him that she almost looked for a top hat to complete the outfit. The vest was met by a snazzy silk tie in raven's black and the suggestion of a textured white shirt beneath. The chain from his pocket watch dangled cutely.

He was staring at her hair. She was staring at his mouth. After a moment, he cleared his throat and her eyes jumped up to his.

Softly, she wondered, "...should I put it up?"

He said nothing.

"I should put it up," She returned self consciously, "I should. It's too much down."

She gripped her hair to lift it and he finally spoke, "...don't."

She paused.

He glanced at his watch and started toward her. She felt a little guilty and said, "I know...I know. We're gonna be late, right? I'm sorry. I changed three times. I didn't want to embarrass you again. So I just kept going back and forth between all three dresses I bought for tonight. Stupid right? I'm so st-"

His hand hooked behind her head and neck and tilted her face up. The kiss was almost instantly drowning. Jill clutched at his vest as his left hand lifted to tug down the top of her dress. Her breasts spilled free, his right hand palmed one and she moaned as she tugged away enough to gasp, "Oh, god...you gotta stop...we'll be late. We'll be -"

"Let me have you, Jill...just let me have you."

How could she say no to that?

He stuck his tongue in her mouth and she gave up.

He caught her under the armpits and lifted. Her butt landed on the kitchen table as her thighs parted to let him between. He reached for her panties under the dress and tugged them down her legs. She kicked the strappy sandals she wore and let her legs fall open for his hand.

When slicked his fingers quickly as he readied her and Jill grabbed for his zipper. His mouth dropped from hers to her breasts. He mounded them and sucked and licked and loved on them until they were rosy and damp and her nipples peaked and needy. Her mouth made sounds of desperation when she finally got his pants open.

As he helped himself to the flavor of her collar bone, Jill's hands slid into his briefs to palm his erection. Leon's hands caught her hips to drag her down toward him, she pushed his briefs to down his thighs and heard them fall with his pants to his ankles, and her legs hooked around his hips as he put a hand between them to guide himself into her.

Her pretty dress pooled around her belly. He guided her to her back on the table to lay her out beneath him like an offering. Her hair spilled all over the old wood and looked like tendrils of sunlight in shadow.

Her fingers worked her body as his slid up to let him pet the scars all over her chest and made Jill gasp his name. Her free hand tucked between her legs, she touched his groin as he surged into her, and felt him sink into her heat. The look on her face made him grunt, "...yeah..._yeah..._it's like that."

Like what?

Like he could die right there, inside of her, and do it happily.

Shaking, eyes tearing up, she used her ass to slap against his claiming cock and keened, "I _hate _you."

Her body tightened, he joined her there again to stroke her clit while she jerked wildly, and he grunted, "...ditto, kiddo." She came wetly, humping and high, loud and vigorous. Her hands slapped at his chest and arms until he caught both of them and forced them against her between her breasts so he could fuck her through her orgasm. When Jill sobbed, he felt like maybe, just maybe, there was life beyond death after all.

Lowering his mouth, he kissed her when he pumped her full of it.

The table squeaked on the floor as it jerked over the tiles with every thrust. He tried to destroy her weeping body while tossed desperately beneath him and he demanded, "Look at me!"

The second she did, he came in her. Her eyes opened, her thighs opened, and he dumped his load into her creamy cunt like he'd paid her to let him. He grunted out curses as he came, balls seizing, ass thrusting and ruining her pretty party dress.

She'd looked like a princess and he'd fucked her like a whore.

He had the strangest urge to apologize while she humped up to suck him dry with her spasming slit. While she whimpered and arched against him, his hand came up and grabbed the collar around her throat. She must have seen something on his face because she begged,"...don't."

But he hit the button anyway.

It clicked. It hissed. It tumbled to the table under her sweat-slick shoulders. When she was free, his hands gathered her face to jerk her up. They kissed and her fingers tunneled into his hair as she moaned, "...what did you do?"

And he growled, "I want you to stay with me, Jill. Stay with me because you want to stay. Not because you can't leave. You're free of me if that's what you want. You're free."

She gripped him to her and hooked her feet behind his ass to tug him further in until his balls brushed her ass and she vowed, "I'm here. I'm here, you stupid fucking idiot. I'm here. But I am _never _free from you."

* * *

She changed into another dress in shimmering emerald and he took her to dinner. She was charming and soft and beautiful. She glowed.

Adam met him by the buffet table at one point and said, "...that looks like a woman who knows her place in the world."

Surprised, Leon lowered his drink, "A prisoner?"

Adam laughed and patted his back, "The collar is gone, my son. That's not a prisoner. That? That's a _wife."_

John was somehow less douchey than expected. He was pleasant and even seemed friendly to Jill as she simply charmed his pants off. The dinner was filled with laughter and drinks. It was somehow a wonderful time.

Adam cornered him once more as things wound to a close. He laid a hand on his shoulder and remarked, "I know Derek demoted you to prove a point."

Leon shrugged, "I might care more if it didn't free me up from all the political butt licking that came with it."

Adam laughed and Leon grinned, "I'm fine, Adam, I promise. This lets me do what I need to do without strings. I can chase down piece of shit rapists and terrorists. I can spend my time protecting you. I can do something that _matters."_

Adam frowned and squeezed his shoulder. "The DSO matters, Leon. It's our brainchild. When this speech is over, I'm going to remove Derek as the temporary head of it. I'm going to have him step down from that end altogether."

Leon, fearing what came next, tried to forestall it, "Don't say it."

Adam laughed and said, "I'd like you to resume command. I'd like to give you complete control on how and when and what. I want you to mold it and make it something that matters. The spear we intended into the side of the beast of bioterror. Train agents to live in your shadows and walk in your shoes."

His gaze traveled over and settled on the woman in the emerald dress talking to his wife, "I've already assigned a rank to Jill if she wants it."

Surprised, Leon glanced over at him and Adam nodded, "Yes. Do it _with _her."

Leon's mouth twitched and Adam gave him a deadpan look as he mused, "...well...if you _insist.._I'll take her home and do it with her right now."

Adam smacked the back of his head and made the former rookie cop chortle as he returned, "By the glow on you both, I'd say you already have."

That's right, Leon thought, the President of the United States was teasing him about sex. Leon laughed loudly and Adam hooked an arm over his shoulders in a hard one sided hug, "You're Special Agent Kennedy now...I'm hoping a few weeks you'll be Director again."

Leon winced and sighed, "...you make it hard to say no, ya know. One - because you're the POTUS...two? Because you used to wipe my ass...so I'm kinda obligated."

Adam laughed happily. He shifted and Leon did too. They embraced, the older man patting his back as he gushed, "Thank you, You're a good boy. I'm jealous of all that hair you seem to grow while mine falls out...but I'm proud of you Leon. Every goddamn day."

Leon touched by it all leaned away as they finished embracing. "Every day?"

"Every one." Adam smiled at him, "Especially the ones where you feed raping leaders of organized terrorist cells their teeth."

Leon chuckled as Adam patted his shoulder again and finished, "...I don't ever say it, because men aren't supposed to say it...but I love you, Leon. There was never a day that I considered you anything less than my son."

Leon felt the swell of such strong emotion that he coughed and cleared his throat before he spoke, "Jesus Christ...I just came here for a shrimp cocktail, Adam, not a purging of emotion. You want me to break down and cry in front of the old man over there? He'll lord it over me for the rest of my days."

Adam smiled happily, "John isn't a man with much family sense on his side, Leon, but he's the reason I have you in my life. So, I guess I can forgive him."

Leon's throat closed up as Adam patted his shoulder again and moved off to greet his Chief of Staff. Leon tensed his jaw and took slow breaths. He'd be damned if he started weeping like a happy baby in front of the Vice President. John Kennedy was not a man given to public displays of emotion.

He wasn't even a man given to private ones. He'd never made an effort to be a loving, warm, or responsive man. It wasn't in his nature.

But somehow he'd given Leon a father who was incredible by being a terrible one.

* * *

The drive home was so quiet that Jill spoke into the dark interior, "You ok?"

His hand slid off the gear shift. It met hers and blended in her lap. His smile was soft and warm in the flickering shadows. "I'm headed that way, yeah. How are you?"

She brought his hand to her lips to kiss the back of it and returned, "I'm headed that way too."

He locked up the house when they emerged and let the cat in from her outside adventures. They moved into the bedroom and watched either other undress with a soft spill of yellow light from the bathroom to guild them.

Mouth lifting in a grin, Jill told him, "...I love this mobster look on you. Where's your tommy gun?"

Eyes sparkling, he quipped, "In my pants, doll, wanna come over here and pull the trigger?"

She affected a fake New York accent and answered, "I don't wanna be sleepin with the fishes. You'll have me in cement boots if I give yeh any lip."

Her dress pooled at the floor as she grinned. He let the shirt slip down his arms to the floor with a flutter of white silk and paused. The humor on her shimmered like her hair in the ugly light behind her. She'd softened since he'd brought her to live with him. The battle-hardened warrior's body was feminine and curvy. Her body was the type that said she'd probably bound those breasts when she was young to keep boys from looking.

Quietly, he wondered, "Early or late bloomer?"

Eyes twinkling, she tossed her hair behind her shoulders, "Early. I had breasts by the time I was about eleven." Her hands slid down to her narrow waist and the healthy flare of her hips, "I don't know what they call it...but I was shapely before I was much of a teenager."

He knew. Hell, he'd chased girls built that way most of his adolescence. So, he gruffed, "...hourglass. They call it an hourglass."

Her smiles were sweet and amused, "Do they? Why?"

"...because once you see it, you spend all your time thinking about it."

Oh, he was clever. Her laugh was throaty and made her lip roll under her teeth as she cocked one of those hips at him. "You think you're cute, don't you?"

The bathroom cast him in gold tones as he tossed his head a little. "I wasn't. When I was young, I wasn't cute. Awkward really and skinny. This?" He lifted a hand to the wonderful cleft in his chin, "This was why I was called buttface through most of primary school."

She adored him. It fairly stifled her speech before she tried again, "Hmm. Kids are fucking idiots. Your goddamn buttface haunts me more than your edible butt."

His teeth flashed in a grin as he chuckled, "I think that was a compliment...but I can't be letting you chew on my ass, Jill. That's gay."

"...I'm not sure you could stop me if I really wanted to." She tilted her head at him again, "I might be smaller, but I think I could take you in a fight."

The breadth of his shoulders nearly obscured the door frame behind him as he arched a condescending brow at her, "Right. Wanna give it another go?"

Her nipples peaked in that pretty brassiere she wore and made them both excited as she confessed, "I do...I really, really do...is it weird that I wanna keep standing here to stare at you?"

His teeth flashed again, "Can't think of why that'd be weird. I am pretty hot."

Her laughter was the best thing he'd heard in days. It was high and surprising and immediate. She pointed at him and giggled, "...you are so full of yourself. Skinny and awkward, my ass."

"Actually, your ass is bubbly and delicious. Let me sink my teeth in and show you."

Her teeth rolled that lip under again and she cooed, "...clever boy. It's a little unfair to the rest of the world to give you that buttface and that body. What's the universe telling the rest of us?"

"...be nice to the nerdy kid? He might just look like this one day?"

Her body shimmered as he let the humor roll between them, "...you arrogant bastard. I'm gonna make you prove you're as good as you think you are."

"Yeah? I thrive under a challenge, sweetheart. You oughta know that better than anyone."

She gave him a look that made his dick twitch and returned, "I thrive over one. I'm sure you'll remember."

His eyes glimmered blue in the lights, "...vividly."

"Good. Drop the pants and show me the ass that goes with that face."

"Just the ass? What about the dick?"

Her eyes twinkled, "...oh..._you're _the dick, darling. But I'll take a look at the cock in question as well. Let's do this thing."

Some of that blonde hair twirled around her hips as she rolled her body a little like she was dancing. His mouth couldn't stop smiling. He tried, but that permanent leer on his face was just frozen there. He couldn't help it.

He was mad about her.

As she lifted her hands to the latch of her bra, he gave up on the teasing and confessed, "I love you."

Her hands froze. Her eyes turned into dinner plates of blue and he said it again, "I love you, Jill."

With something like desperation, she demanded, "...why!?"

His mouth twitched in a smile, "...I guess I just ran out of time staring at that hourglass."

They stared at each other. Her eyes scanned his face until she must have seen something she liked because her scared expression turned steely and almost cool.

Her silence made his mouth dry until she undid the latch on her bra and let it fall down her arms to join the dress. She reached for the hips on her panties and tilted her head at him, "...don't stop."

His hands grabbed his belt and whipped it free. He reached for his zipper and she commanded, "Say it again."

Heart thudding behind his sternum, his teeth flashed in the shadows as he obeyed, "...I love you."

Her panties pooled at her feet. She stepped out of them and the glitter of pale hair on her mound made his dry mouth salivate like he was about to eat the most wonderful meal in the world. He was. It was her. She was the thing he wanted to eat.

His pants hit the floor and he stepped out of them in his boxer briefs. Green, like her dress had been. Green, like his eyes in the yellow light. Green, like the jealousy that ate around her belly because Ada Wong had somehow had him first. Did she still?

So she commanded, "Say it again."

He moved around the foot of the bed. She turned toward him and he said, "...I love you."

As he reached her, Jill's hands slid into his boxer briefs at the hips. She tugged them down his legs and rose while pressing kisses along his legs and over his thighs. She kissed across his pelvis and avoided his dick. Her mouth moved over every scar on his torso. She licked wetly over the one that wrapped at his side and he murmured, "...I can't feel it."

Her gaze slid up his chest and he told her, "The skin is numb. I can feel sensation, but not the actual touch."

She sucked some of that scar into her mouth and watched him. He calmly waited while her hand slid over and looped around his dick. The second she stroked her thumb over the hood of it, he trembled. _"...that_ I can feel."

She let go of him and made him groan in regret.

Her teeth were white against his skin as she grinned. She kissed up his corrugated belly and slid her tongue against his left nipple.

He laughed softly, eyes twinkling, and her curious gaze lifted to his face as he told her, "That's girls."

Jill blinked, "...what?"

"It's girls that like the nipples, honey. Guys? We just like to suck them."

Her teeth flashed in a thrilled smile as she licked up his throat and his head tilted back to let her. "Hmm...because you're all big babies?"

Swimming with happiness, he answered, "Yeah. Let me show you."

He caught her under the arms and tossed her on the bed. She laughed and lifted her arms to him. His hands cupped those breasts of hers and feasted. Her fingers plowed into his hair to watch him and she spoke high and breathlessly, "...is it the milk thing? Big babies like to suck on milk?"

His head lifted. It tilted as he licked one of her nipples and made her eyes cross and answered, "I'd never let my kid eat anything I didn't taste test first."

Her laughter healed another piece of him. They rolled across the bed and she lay on her stomach while he rubbed her back and shoulders and licked down her spine. His teeth bit into her butt and made her gasp. Watching her, he brought his hand down on her pert bottom and made her yip.

She spoke again, breathless, "...fuck. I'm a freak right? Because I like it so much."

He laughed and kissed the pink mark he'd left on her cheek. She sighed and shivered as he told her, "...shit. I guess I am too then because I like doing it."

"Yeah, you do." She laughed and moaned when he slid his fingers between her legs to touch her moist folds, "You fucking pervert...say it again."

"...I fucking love you, Jill." He put his fingers in her and spanked her at the same time. Her body squeezed his digits and damped. It was, literally, like a G-spot for her. While she moaned, he spread her legs and parted her bottom to see her slick center.

Face pink, she batted at his hand, "Stop looking!"

"Why? It's fucking beautiful." He played his fingers in her slick heat and made her squirm.

"It's weird. Stop doing it."

"I can't...I love it."

"I'll do it back to you!"

His low chuckle made her grin. "You won't like what you see, kid. It's a jungle back there."

She put her face in the mattress and giggled.

This was how far they'd come. He figured he could love her a thousand times a day and still find something new to taste.

She whimpered, "...don't look...it's _ugly."_

He froze. His head moved like a dog studying a person. She blinked and her pink face made him adore her as she spouted, _"What?!_ It's ugly. I can't help it! It just is."

His fingers played against that beautiful place she hated and he demanded, "Who told you it was ugly?"

She trembled and moaned when he touched her. Her eyes fluttered as she breathed, "...it doesn't matter."

Of course, it did. He knew. She didn't even have to say it to know who'd told her her body was ugly. His hand slid up and over those scars that he'd left behind on her chest to cup her face.

She tried to look away and Leon commanded, "Nope. Here. Look here, princess, and listen to me. Everything about you is beautiful."

Jill denied that and tried to laugh it off but he held on and said it again, "Everything about you is beautiful, Jill. The scars. The eyes. The hair and the hips and the tits and the cunt."

She winced and pinked in the face again as he added, "Yeah. Beautiful. All of you. He wanted to break you down and destroy you. Forget anything he ever said. Any of it. This?"

His fingers stretched her and made her butt slap back on his hand. His other one stroked a thumb against her mouth as he gravelly voice finished, "This is beautiful. You and me and _this. _I love you."

Her face trembled with pain and pleasure and need. She whispered, "...I don't deserve that. Or you. I don't...Leon...you don't really know anything about me."

He gripped her face hard enough to make her mewl, "I know you better than anyone else in the whole fucking world. I know who you are. I love you, Jill. Stop fighting me and let me."

She leaned her face back and he curled over her side to kiss her. They watched each other until he pulled back.

Jill breathed, "...I want to believe you...I'm trying..."

"Yeah? Try harder."

He angled his dick at her engorged lips and parted her folds with the head of it. She mewed and lifted her hips toward him. He gripped her tight little butt and tugged her onto him.

Her back bowed. Her mouth opened on a cry of completion. He wondered if she knew what it meant that she let him mount her from behind like this. Testing her, he put a hand on her back to hold her down as he fucked her harder.

She cried out and grabbed wildly behind her hips until he grunted, "What do you want?"

She cried desperately, his hand came down and slapped her heart-shaped ass and she finally shouted, "...hold me down! Please! Hold me down!"

One hand grabbed her wrists to pin her arms behind her back at the hips. He tugged on those wrists and brought her torso up off the bed where he kneeling in front of him. His hand grabbed one of her breasts and used it like a handlebar to pull her back harder on his claiming cock.

Jill let him. She let him jerk her onto him and use her. Her breasts bounced and her butt bounced against his groin. His gaze turned to see them in the mirror on the closet door. It was something to see. Her wild waterfall of hair twisted around her body being hammered so hard her mouth was wide open and her head thrown back without the ability to make sound. Their skin slapped, her body soaked down her thighs for him, and he grunted, "Turn your head."

She did. She turned it. They met eyes in the mirror and she cried desperately, "...say it again!"

So he did. He said it while he watched her body swallow his and he tried to fuck a hole through her belly into her heart. "I love you, Jill. I _love _you."

She seized around his cock, he let go of her hands to fling her over to her back, and their slick bodies slapped together as she grabbed him wildly to her. She hesitated with her hands lifted and he grunted, "Do it."

Jill slapped his face and grabbed a handful of his shoulder. The pain hit the pleasure and he laughed. She gasped, quaking, and cried, "...sorry!"

_"...fuck_ your sorry. Do it again!" His voice was rich and hoarse and wonderful.

She slapped him again and stuck her teeth into the side of his neck where it met his shoulder. It hurt. It spurred his thundering hips into her so hard her teeth opened off his body and she just...screamed.

Good.

They chased that pleasure and pain together and let it close some door on the torture and the sadness that had once been all they'd known. Both of them.

He kept on plowing her across the bed while she clung around him like a burr. She ended up half falling to the floor as she finished, slapping his ass and back madly as she came. His body erupted hotly in her while she almost fought against her orgasm.

It opened her mouth on a scream and his hand twisted in her hair to swallow the sound of it with his mouth as he branded her insides with his cum. When he pulled out of her to watch it dribble down the wet folds of her, he told her, "...beautiful."

She covered her face with her hands and muffled her own nervous laugh, "...gross."

"Nope. Beautiful." He tugged her back to his front and she snuggled his softening dick against that evidence of their coupling. She stared at her face in the mirror as he held her. Beautiful, he said. He was wrong. It wasn't her that was beautiful.

It had always been him.

They fell asleep wrapped together in a sweaty knot.

* * *

He wasn't sure what it was that happened with them, but he couldn't keep his hands off her. She was hot for it all the time. They fucked twice more before he left the following morning for work.

She called him to come home for lunch and they did it over the back of the couch with her ass up and her tits bouncing before she even fed him.

She was insatiable for him.

The weeks before Adam's speech were probably the best weeks of his life.

Jill opened up and let him in so far that he almost couldn't stop her. She talked and talked and touched him all the time. She fondled him at the sink doing dishes. She found him to finish him off when he was at the desk working. She climbed on his lap to love him when he was watching television.

His love made her some kind of beautiful, wonderful, wanton creature that wanted his dick all day long. He made love to her at least once a day sometimes twice when she begged for it. He was pretty sure she'd absorbed so much of his cum that if he poked her, she'd squirt Kennedy DNA out of her breasts like milk.

About a week before Adam's speech, she came down with another bout of something. She spent the morning in the bathroom throwing up.

Concerned, he'd offered to take her to the doctor but she'd waved him to work and gone herself. The test results were negative and the rest would take a day or two to get back. So she went home and curled on the couch.

But honestly, it must have been food poisoning because once she was done throwing up, she almost instantly felt better.

Leon was so nervous the night before the speech that he paced like a lion.

Jill finally tugged him atop her to take his mind off of it. She watched him tongue the taste of her between her thighs and said softly, "...Leon?"

She trembled, his face lifted over the thrill of him eating her out, and she whispered, "...I love you too."

He blinked. She quivered and the warm air from his bose brushed over her swollen folds as she whimpered, "...yeah. I do. I love you. I'm so fucking scared of what that means."

She was the only woman in the world that confessed love while you were trying to eat her pussy.

Eyes bright, he came up her body and she opened her arms as he slid atop her and into her. Her back arched, they caught hands above her head, and he vowed gruffly, "...I'm gonna try really hard not to hurt you, Jill. I swear to god."

She gripped his face and rushed, "...I trust you. Ok? Oh, god...I _trust you."_

Their fingers blended, their bodies merged, and they both clung as they combined.

It was the most scared he'd ever been.

The whole world was in his hands. How did he keep it all together without damaging it? It wasn't a job for a hero.

It was a job for a man.

And the man was terrified that he'd fail the woman who'd seen more than the hero.

* * *

Drumming her nails on the desk, Ada met the eyes of the nervous little lab rat who'd handed her the paper. "...you're sure?"

"Ye-yes. Yes. The results are positive."

"Is she aware?"

"...no. No. I buried the results for now."

"Good. I don't want it known." Ada studied the paper on the desk in front of her with some shimmer of jealousy that amused her, "...well...sometimes I'm too good for my own good."

The lab rat twitched, "Ma'am?"

"I should have been a fortune teller. That's how good I am at predicting the future. Get my wet suit ready. I'm going diving."

She took the picture of Jill on the desk beside the lab report and lifted it over the candle that burned beside her. The picture caught flame as the pretty face of the blonde in blue melted in the boiling fire. Ada's eyes flickered in the firelight as she watched it burn.

It was time to stop pulling strings. It was time to finish what she'd started.

It was time to take what she'd earned.

It was time for her_ end game_.


	33. No Hope: Part 3: Chap 5

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Three:**

**-Puppet Master-**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Patricide**

* * *

**Spring**

**-March 13th 2013-**

**Tall Oaks**

* * *

Standing in the cool spring air, Jill couldn't let go of his hands. Piers was distraught. He was almost desperate. Chris had gone down such a dark path since Edonia. It was hard to find him under severe depression and drinking.

He shook his head, "...I don't know what to do. What do I do? I'm making one last attempt today. He's been located in some fucking dive bar in Serbia. He's drinking himself to death to erase his own guilt."

Jill rubbed at his hands, "I'm so sorry. You can get him back...talk about Claire. Talk about her like she'll be devastated without him. You can get him back with Claire."

Piers gave him a long considering look and she nodded, "Yeah. Family. That's the card you play here, Piers. Family and guilt. Chris responds to both. He'll come around. Family and guilt - those are the best weapons against a man who can punch boulders."

Piers leaned forward to kiss her forehead, lamenting, "...goddamn Ada Wong."

Jill froze. She gripped his hands hard again and whispered, "...who?"

"Ada Wong. The bitch who led our men to their deaths. She got what she came for and she just..." He fake tossed a grenade, "We didn't just die...our men...they became something else. Something we'd spent a whole war trying to stop. Ada Wong took them all out with a flick of her wrist. Why? What did she gain!? I don't know. I just...I don't know."

Jill's eyes fell on Leon on the carefully erected stage where Adam would deliver his speech. It was in the open and beautifullly decorated quad. Trees fluttered in a cool breeze, people milled about laughing and excited, the world narrowed down to a single shift of his chin toward her.

He smiled and his hair caught the breath of the wild wind in a way that made her mourn the happiness they'd found. She said goodbye to Piers and wanted to keep the news about Ada to herself. She did. She was nearly desperate for it.

She had to tell him.

She had to.

She started across the courtyard in a pair of khakis and a cowl neck sweater in pretty lilac purple. The jean jacket she wore was a dark wash with silver buttons. She wanted to just take him and run away - back to their cottage to hide out and have each other and pretend the world was just them and the happiness they'd found.

She wanted to do that.

He crossed the pretty green grass in a leather jacket that was made for him. The gray slacks and the button down in black over the pop of a red t-shirt beneath...it was casual in a way that she adored. He didn't blend with all the suits around him. She didn't think he ever would.

As he reached her side, his jacket gaped enough to flash his shoulder holster. She knew, without touching him, he had an inner pants holder that put a spare piece at his back. She'd seen him fire with either hand, she knew he was ambidextrous. She'd laid beneath him and seen the wonders of a man who knew how to use those hands. She'd sat beside him while he raced his flashy car up the mountain roads like a madman.

Leon Kennedy couldn't drive, they joked. He wrecked everything he ever piloted. Maybe he did...but he drove that Mustang up winding back roads like he was born to do it.

He said, with a puff of blown out-breath, "I think we're ready. I think..."He scanned the quad, "...I think this is as good as it gets, kid. In less than eight hours, the world won't be able to turn aside from the truth anymore."

He scanned her face with a smile. When she said nothing, his hand lifted to cup the left side of it and he asked, "...you ok? You look a little peaked. You feeling sick again?"

She'd had a morning filled with nausea. She knew why he was concerned, but she was fine. The nausea now was fear. She smiled lightly and returned, "I'm fine, promise. We should..." She glanced around, "Take me some place private, Leon."

Oh, his face.

He thought she wanted him to go get naughty with her. His hand slid down to blend with hers and he tugged her with him. He almost jogged and she had to just let out a soft laugh. She was going to miss this part of him.

He was so happy. He almost vibrated with it.

When he tucked them into an empty classroom, he joked, "Shit...I haven't made out in here since college."

Her eyes sparkled, "...you went here?"

"Absolutely. All the Kennedy's do." He glanced down the risers to lecture podium. It was a semi-circle set up in stadium seating to let the class easily hear the rising voice of the professor.

Amused, Leon told her, "I used to take naps in here during Women's Studies."

She smacked his chest and had him laughing. She needed to tell him about Ada. She should tell him.

But he was so happy.

Looking like he was about to put his hand in the cookie jar, he joked, "...maybe I was kidding about making out in here."

Her smile was soft as she slid her hands under his jacket and around his back to play with the straps of his shoulder holster, "Hmmm...not a bush man in college?"

His grin was wide as he cupped her bottom and brought her against him with a purr of contentment, "...too busy learning. I didn't waste time staring at bush and boobs."

Jill tilted her head back, his came down, and she teased, "...or you were just too nerdy to score..._Leonard."_

He laughed. She swallowed it with her open mouth melding to his. She couldn't do it. She couldn't mention Ada's involvement and watch him panic. He'd think it wasn't a coincidence that Sheva Alomar had been taken out, their penthouse had been hit, Claire was abducted and Chris was nearly killed in Edonia within months of each other. Ada was involved...but how?

Was she the one pulling the strings?

Alex Wesker was dead. Who was the power she worked for now?

Or had she been the power behind the puppets all along?

Jill started to say something and his tongue took away her urge to speak. It swept in and made her moan into his mouth. She just wanted to enjoy this day. Just this one last day before she broke apart their happiness and started hunting down a conspiracy. Just one more day.

Adam would change the world and they would finally have the right people aware of the threat against all mankind. It was a good day. She wanted to have it. She wanted _him _to have it.

It was his day.

The one he'd pushed and fought and sacrificed for. It was her day. It was Chris' day and everyone who'd ever picked up a gun to try to battle back the perversion of men to make monsters. It was their day.

She didn't have the heart to take it from him.

So she stopped trying.

Jill went up on tiptoes and poured herself into the broke away to give her a bobble of his brows and suggested, "Wanna do it on the lecture desk?"

Lord. He was _so happy. _Jill volleyed her eyes around his face and told him, "...I love you, Leon."

He grinned, smacked her ass and quipped, "You will when I'm done."

But Jill grabbed his hand and shook her head, "...no. Just listen." She tried to find the right words and just went with the honest feeling of it, "I was pretty sure I was better off dead when you took me in."

The humor on his face leveled off into sympathy. He cupped her jaw with one hand she shook her head before he could interrupt, "Let me finish...before you say something wonderful and gentle and stupidly perfect...just let me finish this."

Quietly, he admonished her, "I'm not perfect, Jill. I'm just a guy trying to figure out how to help you."

She put her hand over his mouth and shook her head again, "See? I said don't speak. Because even when you think you're just being honest...you're saying the right things and doing the right things and catching me to bring me back. You didn't let me run. I _hated _you...and you didn't let me run. If-if I told you what I'd done..." She trailed off and his face softened again as she added, "...you wouldn't love me anymore...or hell...maybe _you _would...because you're fucking perfect."

He managed to wink at her and put the seal on that statement. So, she told him, "I don't know what I did right in my life to deserve you...I can't think of a single thing. Mostly, I've been the right hand of a monster...but somebody out there thinks I'm worth redeeming...because here you are. I'm sorry, so sorry, for every single time I hurt you or ran or tried to reject you..I wish I could jus-"

He shook his head and tugged her hand aside and pulled her in. It was a good kiss. Different, somehow, than the ones before it. She was silenced in a way that felt somehow, someway, healing. When he leaned back, she just _knew _he'd say something to derail her from her already scattered train of thought. So she put her hand back over his mouth and whispered, "See? I'd do anything I could to keep you like this."

When he looked amused and bobbled his brows, she shook her head and intoned, "No, you old pervert, I mean like _this..__happy. _Nobody deserves it more."

His left hand shifted and settled over her chest. He pressed, gently, and he didn't need to speak for her to know he was saying she did as well. She smiled sadly and remarked, "...I won't ever deserve it. I'm beyond redemption...but I can't be brave enough to give you back either so..."

Keeping her hand on his mouth, she realized she had to return the honesty he'd spent so long building with her, so she ruined his day and said, "...you heard about Chris' botched mission in Edonia?"

He nodded and his brow furrowed above her hand as she whispered, "...it was _Ada._"

She felt his jaw harden and she kept her hand on his mouth and told him, "Tomorrow is the day we deal with it. Tomorrow, Leon. Today? Let's do this together. Let's change what we can here. Let's do that. Because you deserve it. Because this one day is all I can give you to show you what you mean to me. Let's share it. Tomorrow we can track down that bitch and deal with her."

When her hand slid off his mouth he grumbled, "She slaughtered all his men. You're saying that was Ada?"

Jill gave him a look of such pity that he bristled under it and he rejected it by sliding his hand off her ass and remarking, "...shit. Ok. I'll put a call in to find her. Let me just-"

She gripped the leather of his jacket and shook her head to stop him, "Not now. Not today. Today we stand beside the most powerful man in the world and let him carve that path toward a future without fear. Let's do that. Promise me."

His hands lifted to cup her face. He turned it up and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth and vowed, "I promise."

Jill let go of him with a gentle smile and glanced down at the lecture desk. "...what do you think?"

His grin was toothy and adorable, "I think we might've just soiled the mood."

"Hmm. The day is young." She stepped into him for a hug and his communicator signaled. Hunnigan letting him know that the Vice President was departing Tall Oaks to return to the White House and wanted to say goodbye.

Leon rolled his eyes as Jill mused, "Still on duty, Mr. Kennedy."

"...story of my life." He smacked her butt and sighed with regret, "...there's a ruler over there I think."

Jill's eyes twinkled as they headed toward the door to leave the lecture hall, "Oh?"

"Yeah...you ever heard the song _Hot for Teacher?_"

She laughed and shoved his chest as he headed toward one exit and she the other. Pacing backward, he called to her, "Don't go too far...you look like a girl who didn't get her paper in on time and wants me to grant her an extension."

Eyes twinkling, she teased, "Is it an extension? How long does it need to be for that?"

He laughed, rolling his eyes, and joked, "Longer than I've got, kid. No lie there. Meet me back at the Inn about five, Jill, so I can escort you in."

She waved goodbye, he winked, and the moment she was gone through the doors he told Hunnigan, "Get me anything you can on the B.S.A.A.'s botched mission in Edonia."

"Absolutely. Do I wanna know why?"

"I need to know what they found there. I need to know yesterday."

"...on it."

Leon cut across the quad to find Adam and the Secret Service arriving from Air Force One on the far lawn. Somewhere, the VP was leaving on Air Force Two. It was time to go say goodbye to the old man, when what he really wanted to do was go start tracking down Ada.

The bitch. What game was she playing now? What was she doing in Edonia? What could she possibly have gained from killing all of Chris' men?

He wasn't sure there was enough time in the world to answer all the questions and Jill was right. Today? It was their day. The first day of a world united against bioterror.

Today was a good day.

* * *

The air was almost cold when he found Jill waiting for him at the inn. She stuck close as he cleared them into the reception hall that was filled to the brim with people and balloons and laughter. The tables were three deep with diners enjoying a meal before the President's speech.

Leon met with more than a dozen people before they even reached the stairs to head up the second floor. The little curly tail of the communicator in his ear was kinda cute tucked among the swing of all that sunny hair. Jill joked, "You ever leave that thing in when you have sex?"

Amused, he returned, "Only when I take a shit. Hunnigan likes to know I'm getting enough fiber."

Jill chuckled and he opened a side door into a small office. The Secret Service let them through to find the leader of the free world pacing beside the desk. Leon, calmly, reassured him, "It's gonna be fine."

Adam blew out a hard breath, "It better. This could be the end of my presidency otherwise, Leon. And I'd really like a second term."

Jill softly, encouraged, "You're doing the right thing, sir."

He gave her a small smile. "Thank you. I think so too, but the nerves aren't quite as sure."

Jill started to say something else and Leon offered her the thing in his hand. She glanced down at it and realized it was a curly tail communicator like the one in his ear. Jill felt the shock settle in as Adam informed her, "I'd make it official, but I'd like that to come later. For tonight, I'd really appreciate if you'd help make sure this goes off without a hitch."

On the desk was a badge and a holster with a beautiful Sig Sauer pistol waiting for her.

Jill stared at them until Leon soothed, "It's ok. We talked about it plenty. Take it."

Jill felt her breath hitch as she murmured, "...but I'm an enemy of the state."

Adam gave her a calm expression and returned, "You were never an enemy of anything. The man in front of you isn't an easy man to earn the trust of. He values you more than his own life. That kind of trust deserves nothing but the same. I'd be honored to have you at my back tonight...if you'll accept."

Jill took the communicator and felt like she just might cry as she tucked it into her ear and vowed, "I will guard you with my life, Mr. President."

"I know you will. You already have. All these years, you've done nothing but guard others. I'm hoping the chance to lay down your gun comes soon, Jill. Until then, I'm glad that you're here."

"...thank you, Mr. President."

"Adam."

She smiled shakily and returned, "...Adam."

Adam slapped Leon the shoulder and told them, "Now go doing something fun with the last eighteen minutes of your life before we all go up in flames."

Leon chuckled. Jill kept on smiling until they'd left the office and she finally collapsed against the outer wall to lean back on it and cover her face with her hands. Leon laughed gently and rubbed her shoulders telling her, "It's all good, kid. Go run interference for me down in the kitchen."

She nodded and clipped the badge to the front of her jacket pocket. As he moved toward the stairs, she called, "...do I have to refer to you as Agent Kennedy?"

He laughed returned, "This is an open line, kid, I don't think calling me Captain Sex Machine would go over real well."

She touched her ear as she took the opposite stairs and joked, "What about Agent Pretty Hair?"

Another voice joined them and remarked, "...you must be talking about Kennedy."

Jill laughed, Leon's voice said sternly, "No funny business. Didn't anyone tell you people there's no funny business in government work?"

And the other voice replied, "Yes, sir...agent pretty hair."

Leon scoffed as they split off to secure the area one last time before Adam took the stage.

Jill was poking around in the kitchen when there was crackle on the headset and voice, female, warned desperately, "There's a bomb! There's a bomb on the campus! I've just received a bomb threat!"

Jill froze with her ears perked. Leon's voice came first, calm but commanding, "Agent Harper- slow down and start talking."

The female voice sounded rushed and scared, "I-I just...there was a call to my private cell. A voice. Just a voice...gritty? Gritty. Talking about a bomb. Talking about the President being taken out. I don't-I'm not sure..."

Another male voice joined them, "Relax, Harper, and breathe. We get this things all the time. None of them so far is credible. You know the drill here, start sweeping."

Leon added, "Your private cell, Harper? Not your work one?"

Jill paused and added, "What was the number?"

Harper came back, "Uh..it was blocked...so I dunno."

Alarm bells in her head, Jill finally spoke up, "...Kennedy, where's Pioneer?"

Over an open frequency the President was always referred to in code. Each president had a distinctive one. Adam's came from being the first to blaze a trail across the face of bioterror.

When Leon didn't asnwer, Jill urged, "Leon?"

"Get to the office, Valentine. Sims, Herald - locate Harper and do a perimeter sweep. Fritz and Ferguson, stay on Pioneer like acne on a teenager."

The affirmative came from all sides. Jill hurried across the narrow kitchen to finish sweeping her area. She tucked around a corner to clear the west storage area when Harper's voice came again,"...stand down...stand down ok?"

There was static and Leon's voice joined the feed, "...you isolate the threat?"

"..no, sir...I _lied."_

The quiet was finally split by someone's curse and Harper rushing in, "It's a trap, Agent Kennedy. A trap. Oh, god, I don't know what to do."

Jill started running before the voices came back to her. She hit the staff elevators and slapped the button. Leon's voice echoed in her ear, "Remove yourself from duty, Agent Harper. Sims?"

"Sir?"

"Remove Harper's badge and secure her weapon. Take her to the eastern office and secure her there."

"Yes, sir."

Jill urged, "Leon?"

"I know." She could hear him running, "Hurry."

Jill stepped on the elevator, the doors whooshed shut, and someone started screaming. She froze. She listened as the elevator raised. The headset crackled and voice warned, "Sir? Something-it's...there's something loose in the quad sir."

Feeling her chest seized, Jill whispered, "Someone?"

"No..ma'am...no. _Some thing."_

Leon's voice instructed, "Secure the president! Right now! Everyone secure the goddamn president!"

There was a clatter of noise. People started shrieking. Jill emerged out of the elevator to pandemonium. She ran, her boots slapping and her legs pumping. She ducked around scrambling people in suits and silk clad women in dresses. She circled around balloons and ran for the far office. The two agents guarding the office were dead. One was slumped by the door with his neck broke. The girl was half thrown over a chair across the balcony missing part of her face.

Into the head set, Jill rushed, "Leon...they're down. Fritz and Ferguson are down."

His voice came back desperate now, "Down?"

"...dead."

Harper's sounds of sobbing were so loud, "Oh, god...omigawd...oh jesus..."

Jill kicked in the door to the office and kept on running. She hit the far door and heard a crunch of glass. The window was still tinkling brokenly as she burst into the office. Adam staggered and went to one knee, Jill slid across the carpet and grabbed him and he gasped, "...red."

Jill's hands grabbed at his face. He was bleeding out of the corners of his mouth. His throat was purple and mottled. He had a weeping wound in his carotid...like someone had jabbed him with a needle. He grunted and trembled, Leon shouted, "Jill! REPORT!"

And she couldn't.

She held the President as he grabbed her arms and screamed.

The scream was so loud it echoed around the office. Adam slumped toward her and grunted, "...red..._red..."_

Jill felt her eyes fill with tears as she begged, "I don't know what that means, sir. What does that mean!?"

He slumped against her. She shouted into the headset, "Pioneer is down! He's down! Somebody get some goddamn help in here!"

The screaming was everywhere - in the headset, in her head, in the grounds below the window that was shattered and throwing cold air all around them. The door was thrown open and a woman in a vest was there sobbing. She sank to her knees in horror and Jill knew - it had to be Harper.

She started to demand answers and Adam gasped, _"...Leon.." And stopped_ _breathing_.

"...no."

Jill rolled him to his back on the floor. She started compressions for all the good it would do. His face was haggard and gray. She pumped, shouting, "HARPER! GO GET HELP!"

The President stopped twitching and went still. Jill demanded desperately, "Don't! Please, don't! Mr. President - wake up! Wake up, sir! Adam!"

He twitched on the ground. Jill stopped compressing his chest and he twitched again. His legs spasmed. His hands jerked and grabbed at her so fast she couldn't do anything but leverage herself back on the floor with a shout.

He came over her, groaning and moaning. His mouth slobbered, he grabbed for her face, Harper whimpered and Leon shouted, "MR. PRESIDENT!...don't make me do this!"

Benford pinned Jill to the floor and lunged for her face with a mouth slobbering and glasses broken askew over filmy fish eyes. His necrotic face dripped as he tried to eat her nose and Jill couldn't find the position to throw him off her. She grappled for her gun and Benford's teeth scraped over her shoulder.

Jill screamed in panic, put her hands under his chin and pushed, and stuck her boots against him to push him upright to his knees. She scrambled, he lunged for her again, and Leon shouted, "ADAM!"

His gun was so loud. It made Harper jumped and collapse to her hands and knees to weep wildly. The President's face erupted in a bubbled blast of blood that splattered the wall beside him as his temple took the heavy .50 caliber round, and Jill scrambled before his body collapsed atop her.

She scrambled up and staggered across the room. The smoking end of the Magnum lowered. Leon's face collapsed and she threw herself against him. Her hands caught his face and she demanded, harshly, "Don't! Don't...don't."

Don't what?

Fall apart?

Could she blame him? He'd just executed his surrogate father and the most powerful man in the western world. Jill pushed until his back hit the wall and she slapped him. Surprised, he rushed in a hard breath as she commanded, "Keep it together! I need you now. Please."

His hands were shaking as he grabbed her arms but he nodded. His jaw went steely and he nodded again. She grabbed his face and confessed, "...I'm sorry I hit you."

He shook his head and told her, "I'm not. I needed it."

He let go of her, she released his face, and he demanded, "...Harper...you better fucking start talking."

Harper gasped, desperately, "It's my fault. It's all my fault. I did this...I did. It was me, Agent Kennedy. I let this happen. Oh, god..."

Jill grabbed her by her vest and lifted her to her knees to spit at her, "What the hell does that even mean!? What are you saying?"

Harper sobbed uncontrollably and gushed, "He has her. He has them all...under the Cathedral. Inside. Oh, we have to stop him. We have to...please...you have to help me."

Leon shouted and made Jill tremble with it like always, "HELP YOU!? I SHOULD KILL YOU! Who is responsible for this!?"

Harper cowered and she whimpered, "Please! Please...I'lll tell you everything..I _swear..._but I have to get to her. I need you! Pl-"

Jill slapped her so hard that Harper fell to her side and curled there, crying wildly. She whimpered, "...I can't. I _can't! _I can't do it! He'll kill me!"

Jill jerked the pistol from the holster, jerked Harper to her knees, and shoved the barrel against her forehead, snapping, "He won't get the chance. Worry about me. I know ways to make you talk that'll make you wish you'd died instead of the President. Now SPEAK!"

Harper shook her head, jerking like she was having a seizure, "I can't! I CAN'T! You have to come with me! You have to!"

Jill whipped her across the face with the pistol and Harper cried out wildly, sobbing as she tried to scurry away. Jill jerked her back to her knees and Leon finally spoke, "Ease down, Jill. Ease down."

She gave him a look of horror, "You kidding!? This bitch is the reason he's dead! She's the reason the people out there are dying and screaming! What did you do, you bitch!? WHAT DID YOU SET FREE HERE!?"

Harper shook her head, jerking again, "I didn't! I didn't! I didn't _know_!"

Leon commanded, "Talk! Open your pie hole and start talkin! Right now before I let her blow a hole in you that will!"

Jill drew back the pistol to hit here again, Harper shrieked, "THE CATHEDRAL! PLEASE! IT'S ALL THERE! YOU'll SEE! PL-"

The red bobbled on her face, Leon shouted and tackled Jill, and the side of Harper's head exploded like a water balloon. She went down, the gun fire echoed and took out the desk and the wall above them, and Leon jerked on Jill beneath him to get her around the sofa. She gasped, splattered in blood, and told him, "...it was Herald."

He gave her a look of horror and she nodded, "It's Herald. I saw him before he fired. Why is he shooting at us?"

And Leon returned, face full of rage, "Because she wasn't supposed to talk. She was supposed to die like everyone else here. She wasn't supposed to spill the beans."

Jill shook her head as the gun fire fell silent and whispered, "What does that mean?"

Leon lifted a finger to his lips and rasped, "...it means whoever wanted Adam dead has control of the DSO."

Simmons.

It was written on both of their faces. In shock, she gasped, "..._why?"_

Leon's answer made her even more scared than she already was as he confessed, "I don't know. I don't know anything, except the answers have got to be in that cathedral. We need to get here. I need to know why the best man I've ever known is dead, Jill. I hate to ask but I need to know if you''re with m-"

She covered his mouth and spat, "Shut up. I'm with you. I'm _with _you. Now make a distraction so we can fucking flee."

He nodded. He rolled his shoulder to the floor and shot the light out in the room beyond in a fraction of a second. The dark fell, people shouted, and Jill, impressed with his improvisation, ran for the broken window.

She boosted through, grabbed lattice of the clinging ivy beside them and started down. He was right behind her, hurrying.

As they reached the bottom, she kept flashing on what Adam had said before he died. Red. Red. Red.

What did that mean?

Another question without an answer.

The day they'd been waiting for had just become a nightmare. Someone had made a diversion, climbed up the side of the building, and infected the most powerful man in the western world while the pandemonium gave them cover.

There was no time to mourn him. There was no time to grieve.

There was only time to run.


	34. No Hope: Part 3: Chap 6

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Three:**

**-Puppet Master-**

* * *

**Chapter Six: Tall Oaks**

* * *

**Spring**

**-March 13th 2013-**

**Tall Oaks**

* * *

The cold closed around them as they ran. Jill knew if they stopped, for even a moment, they'd both have to deal with the horror. The horror was already three deep on the campus. Bodies bloated and burst apart in a tableau of blood and rot, risen again to run at them wildly as they moved, hunting them with howling voices made of hunger. Jill kicked down the door between them and the quad and they booked it across the blood soaked grass.

Balloons were splattered with death. The screaming of the dying split the air in a shower of slaughter. The rain started, echoing with thunder as the cold drenched their skin and propelled them across the once beautiful campus toward the gate at the far side.

Jill dropped to her knees and Leon covered her while she used pins from her hair to pick the lock on the heavy wrought iron gate between them and the alley. She spoke calmly as she worked, "...you know where the damn cathedral is?"

His voice was steady, even though she saw his hands tremble as he kept watch above her, "...yeah. Edge of town just beyond the heavy suburban area."

The lock gave and Jill rose. She grabbed him with a fist in his shirt and urged, "Don't stop. Don't think. Don't do anything but protect me. That's what you do right? Do it. Protect me."

She took off like a shot into the narrow alley with him hot on her heels. They ducked and cut left to avoid groping hands and snarling mouths. They pounded through the rain as he called, "Cruiser..there!"

Jill kicked over a grasping zombie and spun around to take down two more and spare the ammo. She leaped over a sawhorse they'd put in place to stop traffic for the President and ran around the passenger side as he grabbed the wheel. Zombies converged on the damn thing and started rocking it back and forth as they both dug around in the vehicle for the keys.

After a moment, Leon cursed, "Fuck it. Cover me."

He hit the edge of the steering column and exposed the wires. She watched him loop and tug, split and shred, and the damn thing sparked to life with a roar of the engine as a zombie smashed its face into the windshield in a smear of blood and burst eyeballs. The goop left a mess like bugs on the highway and Leon hit the windshield wipers.

It was almost comic to watch the zombie fall to the side as he hit the gas and the car surged forward. _Crack. Splat. Plop. Crunch._ The smears left in their wake were many. There was nothing quite like the crush of a body beneath a tire. The cruiser tossed red and blue light around as it roared away from the wreckage where the body of the President lay desecrated.

His hands on the steering wheel were clenched so tight that Jill spoke into the terse silence, "You spent time here as a boy?"

Leon glanced at her and back at the road. She watched the muscle in his jaw flex and spoke again, "Big place for big money huh?"

She could practically hear his teeth grinding as she tried once more, "I bet it was nice to be back here again with Adam."

Later, she'd think maybe it just that everyone had their breaking point. For him, it was too raw and too close to the surface. He jerked the wheel of the car and it squealed with angry rubber as he just cut loose that rage that made her heart stop.

He jerked on the wheel like he was about to rip it off and throw off into oblivion. He yelled _fuck fuck fuck fuck_ over and over and over until Jill cautioned, "Pull over. Ok? Pull over now and let me drive."

Denying it, he shook his head, "I got it."

"Leon-"

"I fucking said I got it, Jill. Leave it alone. Ok? Just-"

Her hand closed over his on the steering wheel. She kept her voice calm and told him, "...pull over, Leon, and let me do this for you."

His right hand came off the wheel. It flipped over and she slapped their palms together audibly as their fingers blended and she squeezed back as hard as he did, telling him, "That's right. It's ok. You're not alone. I'm not alone. We're gonna figure this out. Let me help you. Let me drive."

He started to ease the car to the side of the road to do just that and a woman ran out in front of them. She screamed, "HELP ME!"

She waved her hands desperately to get them to stop. Leon started to bring the car to a stop and from the treeline beside them a man emerged with a shotgun aimed at the car. Jill shouted, "FLOOR IT!"

Leon hit the glass, the shotgun bucked in the desperate mans hands and blew apart the drivers side window in a burst of shattered glass, and Leon slumped forward on the wheel as Jill screamed, "NO!"

She grabbed the wheel, the car side swiped the heavy stone wall of the park beside them, and it was too late. The cruiser hit the woman who screamed and went down, the man fired again and the back window burst like the side had, Leon roused with blood all over him and Jill lost control of the car as a tire blew and threw them into a spin.

Screaming metal, squealing rubber, Leon grabbed for the wheel to help her try desperately to keep control and the cruiser flipped right on over. Not just once, twice, and third time as it hit the roof, spun like a top, and crashed into a row of cars left abandoned. The gas tank ticked, the metal heated, and Leon released his belt as he slid out the window and reached for Jill.

She scooted toward him, grateful airbags and seat-belts, and he tugged her clear as the fire whooshed up from the leaking engine. They both stumbled and staggered into a run away from it, the first car lit the second like candles at a vigil, and the world was suddenly lit with flame and exploding fireworks of sound and light. Leon tugged her into his side, threw her against the stone wall of the park and almost tossed her over the damn thing. Jill grabbed the top, flipped over, and dropped to the ground as he scaled the wall behind her and joined her.

The second he landed, the whole night was nothing but booms of destruction. They ran for it as fire licked the wall where they'd been and cut across the park in a full tilt run. They nearly reached the edge of it and the luminous face of a desolate clock tower made Jill shiver in repressed memory. As they reached the street, Leon grabbed her arm and slung her back against him.

His hand slapped over her mouth as he held her against his chest and hissed, "It's a madhouse out there. At least fifty of those fuckers. If we want out, we have to go down."

Her boot brushed the manhole cover beside them. She glanced over at his face beside her and he nodded, "Yeah. Time to go down, sweetheart."

When his hand slid off her mouth, she whispered, "...I've gotten pretty good at that actually."

His mouth twitched and then his face went cold as she soothed him, "...it's ok to laugh, Kennedy. I promise."

The shotgun had tossed glass all over his face. He was bleeding from tiny scrapes and cuts all over the left side of his countenance. The heavy round had hit the headrest in the car right behind him. Two inches north of that and he'd have lost his head.

She let out a shaking breath and felt the swell of emotion that nearly made her start weeping. What the hell was wrong with her? Shock? She was never this emotional in moments like that.

She whispered, voice breaking, "...he almost blew your head off."

Trembling, he murmured, "...you've gotten pretty good at that too, darlin."

God she appreciated the attempt at humor. She swallowed the tears on a soft chuckle.

He shook his head and leaned down. The manhole cover was already slightly ajar from the over turned road crew truck a few yards away. He shoved it enough to let them reach the ladder and went down first with Jill close behind him.

As he dropped, he waited and caught her when she staggered. The light beside his ear on his curly tailed communicator clicked on and illuminated her face in soft white. Jill touched his mouth with her fingers and remarked, "...it smells like ass in this dump."

His mouth twitched again as he released her and they both eased down the disgusting chute into the main sewer line. There was seldom anything as stinky as the stench of other peoples waste. It was the type of thing that left the nostrils and the mouth gagging and burning.

They were fast, moving along the walls and ducking through corridors until the emergency exit door opened and they found themselves in the subway line. It smelled better there, more like gasoline and stagnant water. As they ducked into the cold corridor, Leon told her, "This is running west. We should be able to follow it and probably find a pretty quick route to the far side of town."

Jill considered him and remarked, "...west?"

"Hmm. Yeah." He started up the tracks in the cloying dark and Jill called softly, "You just know that? Without a compass?"

"Yes." Leon eased into the darkness and Jill just shook her head as she followed him. He didn't need a compass. Who was she kidding? He _was _the compass.

There was a sound like a train horn. Jill whispered, "...how?"

And Leon murmured, "...zombie express."

The train cornered sharply, rocketing toward them on rails and throwing sparks. There was no conductor, there was no crew, it was piloted, apparently, by ghosts. The lights flickered around the dark tunnel and illuminated the bodies of the undead wandering around in the dark.

Jill cursed, "...fuck."

Leon paused and finally warned her, "The goddamn thing is gonna flip."

"What?"

He grabbed her. She shouted in horror as the train screamed and went off the rails. Metal screeched and sparks lit the sky. The damn thing turned sideways and took out a slew of undead as it creamed them in its path. _Splat, pop, crunch_. The symphony of their survival it seemed.

He threw her into the wall so hard her back screamed and flatted himself atop her. The train passed less than an inch from his back and Jill jerked him into her until she couldn't breathe. As it whipped right and smashed into the far side of the tunnel, fire turned the air orange and thick with the stench of rotten eggs. Leon tugged her into a run and all but tossed her up the embankment toward a flashing emergency set of lights. Jill scurried, the undead gaze chase accompanied by the howling of drooling, dying, starving dogs rotting even as they ran.

Leon kicked the emergency door so hard it echoed down the tunnel and the damn thing hit the far wall. He barreled through after Jill, grabbed for the drum of some kind of grease beside it and wedged it shut as the first of their pursuers hit the metal and started screaming with hunger.

They were almost street level again and beside the subway car left abandoned. It rotated lights in the steamy dark. It huffed from a dying engine and cast shadows in the shimmering blackness that hugged it without hope of relief. Bodies were draped and littered, missing limbs and cast aside to rot on the soaked and bloody floor. There was no time to stop, no time to consider, they just ran on toward the stairs to take them back to the street.

A gate stopped their ascent. There was rapid pounding on the far side of the dead trying to break through. Leon told her, huffing, "There's gotta an emergency ladder nearby. Maybe we can j-"

Beside them the doors of the subway car opened in a rush. A fat woman surged forward shouting, "BENNNN!"

She wore a bloody pink shirt. Her neck was almost flayed open at the shoulder. She was bleeding and racing toward that damn door. Jill shouted, "NO!"

Leon called, running toward her, "LEAVE IT CLOSED!"

She grabbed for the lever in a panic, Jill dove to throw it down again, and the woman hit her clean in the face with one desperate fist. It sent Jill to her back as the door chugged upward and she shouted, "BEENNNNN!"

Hands grabbed for her chubby ankles. She was jerked to her back on the ground as Leon grabbed Jill to jerk her back and away from their grip and Jill scrambled with him to find anything to take out the hoard that was about to descend on them. The woman died screaming so loudly, so awfully, so painfully that there was no hiding from it.

Leon shot her in the head while she struggled with zombies ripping at her belly and her legs and her throat with their amorous teeth.

Jill tossed him a baseball back from an over turned bag on the floor and picked up a pocket knife from a severed hand on the floor. She didn't stop to think about the damage it took to rip a hand off a body like that. It implied more strength than could possibly make sense. How? How had this goddamn town turned so fast? It was a kind of infection at a rate that she'd never seen.

Leon was bashing skulls in bursts of brain matter and bone. She raced in to swing low and drop who she could with a finishing jab to the temple. She was smooth and fast, quick and deadly. She didn't waste energy throwing punches or trading blows, she just knocked them down and took them out.

She might have trained with Redfield, Leon thought as he watched her go, but she wasn't at all the same style of fighter. Chris was a tank. He rolled in and rolled over and left nothing behind. Jill was an artist, she danced while she slaughtered, throwing sprays of blood on walls almost like paint from an eager brush.

When the last one dove for her, Leon kicked it from the hip and shot it in the face as it fell backward. He put a hand down, jerked Jill to her feet, and threw her up the stairs ahead of him. They moved quick and well together.

The training plastered on them both kept them silent and deadly and fast. The world above the subway was chaos. It was pandemonium. It was hell unleashed on the mortal plane in the form of fire and fear and the human response to panic.

People shot each other in fear and horror. They ran and fell and died. Fires burned from buildings torched by terrified hands. The truth was that sheer mob mentality always hit when a pandemic like this occurred. People just wanted to run and survive. They killed like wild things to make sure it happened.

As they reached the surface, a handful of seconds to take in their surroundings gave them lungs of smoke and eyes filled with madness, and Leon shouted her name. Time froze or went too fast as he grabbed her under the arms like a child and tossed her around his front. She clung, he ran about four steps, and a motorcycle with a maddened man dying hit the wall where they'd been standing. Flames erupted, Jill leaped free to take flight beside him, and they ran blindly through the smokey streets.

Jill shoved open the doors on a pretty and still colorfully lit bar when the street was so thick with zombies it was impossible to see a way through. The shoved a row of booth seating against the door after locking it and found themselves in the cool quiet of a place devoid of danger. Jill hunkered down and put her hands on her knees.

Leon moved to the back door of the bar and peeked through. It was pool tables and a neon pink sign of a pair of tits behind a shiny piece of dingy wood that was the cocktail station. Rows and rows of bottles lined the walls and Jill watched him vault over the damn thing, grab a bottle of whiskey off the wall, and throw back several swallows.

As she relearned how to breathe, she asked, "What's the plan?"

He set down the bottle of whiskey and laughed. It was dry and hard. It made her stomach clench as he spit, "Does it matter? We're fucked. This place is over run, Jill. Not Raccoon bad...worse."

She gave him such a long look until he stopped pacing and looked at her, "...what?"

"You came in at the end of it, Leon. The end. You weren't there when it all fell apart..._I was._" He stopped pacing to consider that as she added, "I know everything is fucking awful. I know it can't get much worse...but don't make me ask you again to keep it together."

He nodded, shoving a hand back through his hair, "...damnit. Ok. If we can just find some wheels, we can try to get to the hi-"

Jill retched and staggered. He leaped over the bar with a curse of fear and she dry heaved over a plant in the corner of the bar. Concerned, he rubbed her back until she lifted a hand and waved him away, grunting, "I'm fine! I'm fine! Just nerves. I'm ok."

After a handful of seconds, he said, "Forget the church...I have to get you somewhere safe."

With a rush of surprise, she stood up and grabbed his jacket, "No! Are you kidding?! Whoever did this could be right there hiding out!"

He caught her face and scanned it with his eyes, "...I won't risk you."

What was it with these men in her life trying to sacrifice the cause for her? She shook his hands off her face and demanded, "You don't have a choice. We have to do this. Adam...he deserves justice. I'm fine. You have to trust me to know my limits here. I can handle this. Don't start thinking of me as some fragile flower, Leon. I need you to back me up, not work against me to get me to cower and hide."

He looked torn until she exclaimed, "I look like a girl who hides in a trash can!?"

And then? He shouted and made her brains scramble, "YOU'LL DO WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO!"

No thinking, she just slapped him. It echoed. He staggered a little and she spat, "Shut up! You fucking idiot! What are you doing? You want to put out the welcome banner and invite them in here!?"

His hands caught her and shoved her against the wall. One held her wrists over her head, the other grabbed her face to pin her there. "...hit me again, Jill. I fucking dare you."

"I will!" She spit softly, "If it knocks some sense into you. You think you can boss me around? You want to tie me up like a caveman and drag me away by my goddamn hair?!"

"I want you safe!" He hissed it at her, "I want you secure. I don't give a fuck if you think I'm having a white knight moment. I don't care about feminist shit right now. I want you away from this."

She started to snarl like an angry cat when he added, "I can't put a bullet in your fucking head like I did Adam, Jill. Ok? Please? Just let me do t-"

"Let go of me," She instructed it in a hard voice, "Let go of me, Leon. Now."

She watched the struggle on him. She watched his jaw flex. She watched the rage and the sorrow and the fear shoot across his face. "...I'm sorry I hit you. I am, but I don't think you're dealing with this. I'm sorry, I am, but you have to get a grip. Get a grip. You need me with you now more than ever...let me go, so I can help you."

After a moment of their eyes snapping and holding, he finally let go of her hands but held onto her jaw. "..._shit."_

She grabbed his face. He leaned down and put their foreheads together. They both took a handful of seconds to breathe. Softly, she finally urged, "...you get to have a white knight moment after what happened. You do. Just one. Just now...but you have to remember I know what I'm doing. You have to trust me. Trust me and stop trying to save me. Just cover me. Ok?"

He finally nodded, silently, and Jill finished, "I'd apologize for slapping you again, but I think you kinda like it...you old pervert."

His mouth twitched. She shoved a hand against his chest to back him off her and declared, "Let's go. We're done talking about this."

She ran for the back door and didn't give him a chance to argue. He followed her out into the smoke again at a run. He was just hoping he wasn't making a mistake choosing to find the truth over getting her to safety.

The story of his life seemed to be decisions that came back to haunt him later. He was really, really hoping this wasn't one of them.

* * *

The quiet of the engine had Jill staring out into the dark. They'd battled their way through a city turned red with blood to find the only bus left to relative safety. The cathedral, it seemed, was already being set up as a sanctuary for escapees from Tall Oaks.

They were aboard it now with a handful of survivors.

A handful.

Just a few.

It was a sad show for an entire city.

Leon stood beside the man driving the bus through the rickety darkness. He spoke softly, splattered in blood and gore. He'd stood like some kind of video game hero against a bloated zombie bigger than a half dozen men. It had tried to tip the bus and kill them. He'd kicked the glass out of the windshield, mounted the hood like nothing she'd ever seen, and blasted the fat bitch in the face until she'd been hamburger and defeat.

They'd left her a smear on the sodden ground as they'd shot off into the regret saturated wind.

Jill was soaked in blood all along her left side from stabbing some kind of barbed perversion in the throat to save her life during a brawl of a lifetime inside of a gun shop. It had died flopping and screaming atop her. She shifted and ached in her back and shoulders a little.

She was hoping the answers were in the fucking cathedral. She was hoping this wasn't all for nothing. She was running out of hope.

He claimed the seat beside her as the bus turned into a muddy road and kept heading west.

She wanted to reach over and take his hand but something kept hers in her lap. He was different somehow. Colder. Angrier. Darker. It was Adam and the betrayal of his own men and the conspiracy they'd yet to uncover. It was her refusing to leave and find safety and let him fight on alone.

He was so angry.

He vibrated.

Softly, she told him, "...I will never leave you."

Surprised, he glanced over at her tired face. She nodded and said it again, "I will _never _leave you. Don't be angry because of that."

Leon said nothing and looked away. She turned her head back to the window and the silence of the wind. When the bus petered to a stop, they piled off and trucked up the muddy embankment to the enormous cathedral. It was Gothic revival and gorgeous. Old, it gave the feeling of being the first thing built in this city, hundreds of years before it had become urban. It towered above like a looming behemoth judging them.

The survivors in the church welcomed them in. The inside was set up as an aide station. They were treated for wounds and checked for bites. They were given water and shown to a clean pew for waiting for evacuation. He scanned the church looking for answers while Jill took the opportunity to clean up.

He was carefully avoiding her. Why? She was betting part of it was rage, part of it was impotence at not having any control of what was happening to them. When she tried to speak to him, he gruffed, "Go find something to do, Jill, ok? I'm busy."

Her brows had winged up as she commented, "You wanna tell me what I've done to make you so fucking mad?"

He gave her a dirty look and barked, "You think I have time to play guardian over you here? You're sick! You're weakened by it! And you won't fucking go somewhere safe and let me do this! You're being stupid and stubborn and a pain in the ass! So just...get away from me for awhile. Let me think and leave me alone."

Hurt, she turned on her heel and left him. He needed someone to lash out at, she knew that. She knew he was throbbing inside. He'd lost his father, his command, his world in a single strike from a man he'd once been assigned to follow. It was betrayal and it felt like fire in your guts to feel it.

She knew it. She'd lived it. She knew it was impossible to quantify loss and betrayal and survival. It was just something he had to get through on his own. He'd never let him help her, she knew that...but it still stung to know he'd rejected her because of it.

Her eyes teared up and irritated her. Apparently, she was going to cry. The night was far from over, but she was going to weep because Leon didn't want a hug from her. Ridiculous.

She gasped twice and couldn't swallow them. She was weeping softly as she reached the area they'd directed her to for bathing. She didn't notice one of the women stopping to let Leon know about her distress. She was too busy feeling stupid for being so upset in the first place.

There was no times for tears and sadness here. They had to survive before they could grieve.

Jill accepted the shower and the change of clothes happily. She stood in the warm water and sighed. The pink blood spilled down between her toes and away. Her breasts were tender when she washed them and she figured she was likely having PMS before her period came, signaling the reason she was feeling so hormonal about Leon's rejection of her affection.

She started to reach down and scrub between her legs and a hand slid down her belly to do it for her. She made a small sound of surprised and he turned her head over her shoulder to kiss her. The heat soaked into her.

Against her mouth, he soothed, "Let it go...I got you."

Jesus.

He was comforting her. It was his father he'd lost and he was comforting _her. _She felt like a bitch.

He couldn't stand to see her cry. He'd come into the shower to try once more to convince her to get somewhere, anywhere, safe and sound. Her tears defeated him more than any weapon ever could. She wept softly, almost desperately, and soundless like she didn't want anyone to know.

He tried to take away the sadness for them both.

Her breasts were tender and so sensitive that he cupped them. It was a handful of minutes that made her bones melt. When it was done, she leaned back against him and let him soap her clean. She knew what he was doing. She knew, because he'd always been that guy, he wanted to bury the pain under something more.

He nuzzled her face over to him and kissed her, tongue and sucking. He wanted to fuck her to forget what horror waited beyond the shower. She wanted to help him, she did, but this wasn't how she did that.

When he drew back from kissing her and slid one hand down to angle her hips toward him like he'd mount her against the wall, she whispered, "...not here. Ok? Not here. There's people out there. There's so many things we have to do. Not here."

And he trembled.

It broke her heart to feel it.

Jill let his hands cup her sore breasts and she moaned softly as he weighed them. Heavy. They almost over filled his hands. He liked how soft she was lately. Her hips and belly and breasts were fuller, more feminine than fighter. It made him hard again against her back.

He started to play with her and she caught his wrists to stop him. Surprised, he heard her say, "...I wanna fuck it away too, Leon...but it won't change anything. If you need to, you can bury it all between my thighs and fuck me until you can't remember your own name...but he'll still be dead...and the world will still be burning."

He leaned over her shoulder and put his forehead to hers. It was just a moment. Just a few seconds.

Angry, hoarse, he lamented, "..._fuck.._"

Her heart ached for him.

He might have her, but she had him to. The difference? He just wouldn't let go and let her.

She figured it was the only breaking he'd do until it was done. He just wasn't a man who stopped to grieve. He needed to, but he wouldn't. He'd bottle it up and let it kill him later. She urged, softly, "...it's not your fault."

He said nothing. He hand lifted to touch his face and she tried again, "...it's not your fault, Leon. You know that."

With something like cold regret, he returned, "...my only job was to protect him...and now he's dead. Any way you cut it, Jill...this is _entirely _my fault."

She gripped his wrist and urged, "Stop...stop it. Touch me again and just stop."

"...I wanna touch you until I can't feel it anymore, Jill. The second I finish? I'll still be the guy who shot the President between the eyes."

"You had no choice, Leon. You had no choice in any of this. Don't blame yourself."

The poof of steam accompanied his gruff voice as he told her, "Nobody else left to blame, is there, kid? There's a puzzle of some kind on the balcony. A couple of statues missing. I'm hoping they're around here."

And then he let go of her and left the shower.

She stood there trembling. She wanted to help him. She wanted to help them both. But they couldn't fuck away the horror of what happened. Somebody had assassinated the President. Why? As much as she wanted to ride his dick and let it be someone else's problem, it was theirs.

It was time to stop hiding and find the truth.

Red.

Whatever else was true, Ada had said it before he'd died. Red. The color of his blood? The color of his loss?

The only way to find the answer was to face the things that waited in the dark.

She just wasn't sure she was ready. For the first time in years, she was afraid of what they'd find lurking there.


	35. No Hope: Part 3: Chap 7

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Three:**

**-Puppet Master-**

* * *

**A/N: **_Do yourself a favor if you need to see the beauty of some of these scenes - visit **SAMBKS** on **DeviantArt.** His renders of No Hope Left are painfully perfect and a brilliant tribute. You can find me there under the theladyfrost if you want to chat or feel inspired by insipid but well meaning attempts at visual art. Thank you to everyone who loves this. I wouldn't even know what to do without you._

_We'll jump through time here to find ourselves closer to the end of the story than any of us likes...but all good things must come to an end...right?_

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Desolation**

* * *

**Spring**

**-March 14th 2013-**

**Small Willows**

* * *

Jill's hands grabbed for him as he swam toward the shore. The whistling cry of jets set loose to destroy filled the night sky around them. The dawn edged over the inky black adding pink to the parade of death that followed.

Tall Oaks was being sanitized. It was the response Adam had been so desperately trying to guarantee never happened again. Derek Simmons had pulled the trigger on an airstrike and sentenced anyone left alive in that city to death.

Leon shouted so loud that it set birds to flight in the trees above them as he gained his feet and let loose his rage, "MOTHER FUCKER!"

Jill jumped as if he'd shot her and he threw a hand out, apologizing, "Sorry. I'm sorry. You ok? I'm sorry I scared you."

Jill grabbed his hand and shook her head. She let him loop his soaked arm over her shoulders as she clutched his waist and returned, "...I'm so sorry we couldn't stop it."

They'd tried.

By god, they'd given it their best shot.

They'd gotten beneath the cathedral to find the lab Simmons had been hiding. They'd found the mutated sister of the long-dead Helena Harper and understood her desperation. She'd been being blackmailed. Leon, the product of blackmail himself, had garnered some sympathy for the dead agent.

Jill had tossed side the truth of her betrayal and told Leon, "...don't. Don't feel sorry for her. She is the reason Adam is dead. She let Simmons in the back door to kill him. You heard Hunnigan before...seventy thousand people, Leon. That's what Helena chose to risk for her sister. There is no one person on Earth worth that kind of sacrifice."

The way he looked at her made Jill grab his jacket and turn him in the flickering light of the monitors. "Nobody." She said it with such feeling that she watched his jaw flex and urged, "...I mean it, Leon. Don't make the same mistake she did. Don't risk everyone for one. Ever."

The tape cassette had whirred behind her as he'd grabbed the side of her face and made Jill's breath catch as he answered, "I've done the right thing every goddamn time the choice has come my way, Jill. You don't need to lecture me on the right thing."

And she'd whispered, "Did you? Then why are you still involved with Ada Wong?"

He let go of her face. The cassette tape rolled footage and they'd stared in horror as a pod of goop burst and cracked like an egg to show a body emerging. The image cut off just as the body layered in ectopic fluid fell the floor.

Jill grabbed wildly for his jacket again as she gasped in horror, "...did you -"

"Yeah."

"Was that-"

"Yep."

Her gaze turned up to him. His stayed on the silent screen until it buzzed white noise and static at them. She finally found the words to finish, voice quivering, "...they cloned you."

His eyes were the white blue of a supernova in the flashing television glow. He turned them to her and returned, "...I know."

Standing on the shore now, they were both aware that Simmons was cloning people. He'd cloned Leon. Why? What was the plan here? Leon's communicator signaled and he opened it to Hunnigan's relieved face, "...thank GOD! You're ok?"

"Better than the rest of Tall Oaks, yeah." Leon gruffed as her pretty face shivered with grief.

"Derek ordered the strike to be swift. They won't suffer."

Leon gave her a long-suffering look and almost said something cruel when Simmons appeared above her, "...ah. Agent Kennedy...I see you managed to make it out alive. Adam was always so proud of your survival skills."

"Really? He was always ashamed that you were a fucking coward who dodged any kind of service."

Simmons flashed his teeth in a wolfish grin, "It's funny, isn't it...to find out you'd been the last person alive to see him. Although Adam did warn me not to cross swords with you..so I can't say I'm surprised."

Jill grabbed Leon's arm as he laughed, "You nasty little bastard. Go ahead and finish it."

"Leon Scott Kennedy - I'm issuing an order for your arrest on the charge of Presidential Assassination. As of this moment, you are hereby removed from duty and will be held in accordance with statutes set in place to prevent treachery against the state of the union. You will be tried under the Patriot Act and Jill Valentine's temporary pardon has been revoked. As of this moment, you are both fugitives."

Jill felt her jaw harden as Leon laughed with such heavy rancor that it was like a blanket tossed over them both, "You pathetic piece of shit...this your plan? To have me killed and replace me with some fucking monster you made?"

Simmons's eyes twitched and he actually looked slightly concerned, "...what did you say?"

"I saw the video, Simmons. I saw your little body farm. I know what you were doing under this city. I'm going to make sure you pay for every fucking person you murdered today...and every fucking one you replaced with some carbon copy from a pod."

Simmons looked vaguely afraid before he steeled his expression and spat, "I don't know what you're talking about, Kennedy. But I'm going to be benevolent and give you one chance to turn yourself in."

"Same goes, _Derek,"_ Leon sneered it, "One chance...and then you find out why Adam warned you not to cross me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah...my enemies have a way of ending up dead."

Simmons eyes flashed, "Are you threatening me, Mr. Kennedy?"

"Nope. Just making conversation."

"You have twelve hours, _Leon..._and then you see what I do to _my _enemies."

"Game on, you sack of shit, game on."

The communicator went dark and Leon threw it so hard that he shouted with it. It flipped and went down in the lake they'd left behind. Jill stood beside him while they watched it sink.

She lifted her eyes and told him, "Let's get somewhere, right now, so I can get in touch with Barry."

Leon turned jerked his head for her to follow. They moved into the trees without a word. They tramped, wet and cold, through the brisk dawn until they reached a far-field and the edge of a campground.

It had been the longest night in years for them. He'd been half-convinced they'd never get out alive. Simmons was making monsters beneath the sleepy streets of Tall Oaks. How far did his operation extend?

Jill found the last payphone in the Midwest and called collect. Leon watched her shiver and knew that they needed to find some dry clothes before she ended up with pneumonia. Hell, she already looked pale and ill standing there anyway.

As she hung up, he told her, "Let's find something dry...maybe there's a gift shop or something we can break into."

Jill smiled at him and shook her head, "There's a safe house about a half-mile up the road from here. The BSAA uses it to house recruits during training season...apparently, Tall Oaks had been a pretty active hub for enlistment under Benford."

Leon nodded, feeling the jerk around his heart, as he followed her out toward the narrow main road. She kept glancing behind her as they walked. When they finally caught a glimpse of the ramshackle cabin, she queried, "...you want to let this lie and let the BSAA ride the storm?"

Surprised, he scanned her face, "Hell no. Simmons is mine. I'm not letting anyone else take him down."

"Alright." She opened the door to the cabin with a code input to the box beside the door and he followed her inside.

As they stripped to the skin, Jill told him, "We're dead."

His head tilted as she nodded, "Barry is putting the report out that we died in Tall Oaks. That oughta stick a pin in Simmons plan for your clone for a little while anyway."

Leon studied her as she shed the final piece of her clothing. She headed toward the far side of the cabin where a shower curtain circled an old showerhead. He watched her shadow behind the curtain as she turned on the water and sighed with delight. When she turned profile, he liked the jut of her breasts and the line of her hips and belly. He had a fear that freeing her would put her back in the field.

He didn't want her back in the field...he just wasn't sure how to tell her that without sounding like a misogynist. From beyond the curtain, she called, "Rebecca has some leads on your plagas situation."

Leon dumped his pants and headed toward the curtain, "Meaning?"

"She thinks it restructured your genetic makeup to just create a natural evolution."

The curtain made a clinking sound as he joined her in the shower. They faced each other as they washed the filthy lake and sewer off them. She tilted her head back and her breasts poked at him with water swirling around them and down to her naval. He wanted to fuck her. He knew why. Fucking her was easier than facing what was right here in front of him.

Fucking her was like fucking Ada had been so long ago, a distraction from the world trying to destroy him. The difference?

He moved up behind her and started washing her hair. She tilted her head back and let him. This, he thought, this was the difference. Jill didn't want anything from him but him. He wanted to fuck her because he loved her. And loving her was the only thing keeping him from tearing apart the world in fire and blood to avenge what he'd lost.

He wanted her protected first.

He wanted her insulated before he ripped a hole in the conspiracy Derek Simmons had woven around the administration he'd so faithfully served and used that bastard's lies to choke him to death with them.

He wouldn't risk Jill for revenge.

When she was safe, he'd finish it.

She was still talking, "So it's kinda like...Blade? Like Blade. All the strength, none of the weakness."

Leon resisted the urge to tuck a hand between her legs and finger her. His mouth quirked as he grunted, "Some of the weakness."

Jill turned her head over her shoulder at him. Her face was all sympathy, "...I know. I'm so sorry. Tell me what I can do. What do you need?"

She watched five different emotions flash around on his face and turned toward him. Her arms looped around his waist and his shifted to her back. His face buried in her shoulder and she soothed, "I know...I know. We'll make sure he pays...not just for Adam...for every single soul in that city."

Leon hesitated and then finally confessed, "...I want you to go off and hide."

Jill let go of him and leaned back. His hands caught her arms to hold her, "There's a reason I don't take on partners. There's a reason I'm a lone wolf, Jill. It was bad enough in the ESR...but now?"

He pleaded with eyes so blue her heart yearned to be at the edge of the ocean with him instead of the beginning of a nightmare, "I can't do this if I'm worried about you. I need you to go someplace safe and wait for me."

Jill stared at him until he let go of her arms. She turned around in the shower to rinse the soap off her. He stood there watching her back until she finally spoke, "You're scared. You're angry. You're grieving. So I'm gonna give you that one moment of White Knight Syndrome. I'm going to let you have it. And I want you to remember that I saved your life in the ESR. I did that. Without me, you'd be dead."

His jaw tightened until she added, "I can't go wring my hands and sit quietly waiting for you either, Kennedy. And I'm not some girl you need to have hide in a trashcan. I got your back...now you get mine."

He did. He just...he did. He lifted her hair off the nape of her neck and kissed her there. She shivered and let his arms wrap around her from behind. She hugged them to her as he murmured, "...I don't know how to do this."

She laughed, leaning back against him and commiserated, "Me either, pal. I'm just winging it, but I can tell you this...you need me. I need you. We both need to make sure Simmons and his hoard rot in hell for all they've done. Work with me and protect me with me beside you...that's all you can do right now."

He curled her close and held her in the heated spray.

They were so wrapped up in trying to handle the horror of the last eighteen hours that neither of them noticed the figure that dropped a tiny device on the bed beyond the shower. She'd thought about popping in to join them in the crypt, but she'd let them battle back Helena Harper's mutated sister instead alone. With Jill there, Leon didn't need her.

And, Ada suspected, poking in at that time might have brooked a fight that ended with someone dead.

Instead?

She needed to get them to China. She needed them to get rid of Simmons. She needed Leon to trust her again to make the plan stick. So she left the information he needed to find his way.

In less than a day, Sherry Birkin would be making a run for the border of the western edge of Tatchii with the only person on Earth carrying a strain of the same mutation that Albert Wesker had carried.

Taken from Antarctica a presumed corpse, Wesker had brainwashed Burnside to make him a soldier. Ada, pushing at the kid, had managed to get him to flee Wesker's command and go into hiding. Unfortunately, he'd gone A.W.O.L. and decided to become a mercenary when Wesker's death was declared. As it stood, he was the only person in the world that Wesker had attempted to supplicate with his own blood.

He'd transfused Burnside himself to resurrect him after the T-Veronica virus had nearly killed him. The Redfield's had left his corpse, but it hadn't been the end for him. Still breathing, Wesker had resuscitated him for his own needs.

Now Sherry Birkin was trying to acquire him for his blood to stop Simmons and his goddamn C-Virus. The idiot. The fool. The colossal moron. He'd done his level best to create havoc when she'd declared their relationship at an end. He'd been obsessed with her, which was all well and good, and then he'd lost his fucking mind.

He'd let her know he wasn't going to pursue the White House unless she agreed to be his first lady. When she laughed, he'd set about trying to bring her down. He'd created a fucking nightmare in Tall Oaks trying to get rid of Benford and Kennedy - both senior and junior- to teach her a lesson.

The little bastard probably knew that she'd gotten her hooks into both of legacy and legend. When one failed to be seduced, she'd simply set her sights on the other. John was easily controlled. He was older now and looking to validate himself with something young and easily plowed.

She already had him on her hook until she was ready to dispose of him.

Leon kept wriggling off. She'd misjudged him somewhere. She'd thought he was a boy, easily played, and easily led. The girl in the shower with him was a wild card. She didn't just open her thighs, she'd opened something in him. He wasn't willing to play anymore.

She had to get him back on the hook, or get rid of him altogether.

She'd have her answer in Tatchii. All she had to do was get him there.

* * *

**March 15th, 2013**

* * *

He had no doubt who'd sent him chasing Derek Simmons across the Atlantic Ocean.

When the plane had landed just outside of Lanshiang and they'd met up with Barry Burton, he'd shared her name with them happily. If she was responsible for Chris and his man in Edonia, it was time for her to pay the price for her actions. He no longer cared what side she was on.

The only thing he knew was that she was just as much of a threat as Simmons. All the intel in the world didn't make her any less of a villain after all. He felt a sting of something that might have been regret.

And then Jill walked out of the hanger where the private plane had landed.

She was in gray fatigues and a skinny wet weather jacket in blue. Her hair was braided tight to her scalp and the vest draped over her jacket was strapped at the shoulders. He watched her stop to talk to Barry as she cleared a Hechler and Koch MP7 and swung it to her side. Apparently, she thought they were going to be needing armor-piercing rounds in their quest for revenge.

He'd heard she was something with a machine pistol. Those 30mm rounds were hardened steel instead of the standard copper or lead you'd find in a handgun. She wasn't out to wound her enemies, she was out to blow them away. She'd make it easy with a suppressor and a sight reflex on the overpowered weapon. She was ready for bear...or lickers respectively.

He finished loading another magazine for Matilda and secured it into the vest he wore. Jill paused to watch him in the cold air. Hunnigan had managed to get clothes there for him before they'd even landed. It never failed to make her smirk at the clever way he mixed fashion with fierce badass.

The shirt was a shade of blue that was nearly purple. It was left unbuttoned on those impressive forearms and above the gloves he never went without. The vest was somehow in style and somehow serviceable. He was about to go running around China in six hundred dollar steel-toed boots. Each of his thighs was outfitted with a spare pistol. Matilda was under his arm and the eager hangdog face of Quint was handing him a modified Ar-15. She caught the tail end of his lecture as she moved to join them.

"-rear takedown pin, and buttstock. You know what I mean?"

Leon tilted the gun in his hands and nodded, looking suitably impressed. He lifted it to his shoulder with a clink of metal and put his eye to the telescopic sight as Quint chirped, "It has a SOCOM barrel...458. So like...you can go big game hunting if you want in bushy woodland areas. Like..." Quint made pew pew pew sounds as she aimed around the hanger.

Jill felt her lips twitch as Leon lowered the weapon and laughed, "In case I get bored and want to go varmint hunting in the Chinese wilderness."

"Exactly! Or...ya know...if you come up against some big ass trolls trying to squeeze you like a damnit doll."

Leon slapped him on the shoulder and smiled over at Jill, "This guy is useful."

"He has his moments." Jill finished coming toward them as Quint moved forward to hug her.

"Valentine...jesus in a purple tube top...I thought I'd never see you again. Fuck...you look good." Quint eyed her as he let go, "Fuller. You stop working out?"

Jill couldn't stop the laughter. She shook her head and Quint added, "Looks good on you. Like..the boobs are big and what not."

Leon's brows shot up and Jill remarked, "Yep. He talks that way. No filter. And harmless."

Quint squeaked and leaped up excitedly. "Right! HOLD ON!"

He raced off.

Leon tilted his head back and forth until Jill mused, "What?"

"...he's right..the boobs are big and what not."

She chuckled. She stepped forward to touch his face and said softly, "...thank you."

The wind tickled the hair around those eyes she loved as he returned, "...for?"

"For trying."

His lips turned to kiss her palm as Quint came running back with a belt strung with grenades, whooping, "Party favors for _everyone_!"

Jill shrugged when Leon quipped, "I'd think that party would be the bomb, yo."

Jill gave him a dead pan expression.

Quint snorted and added, "It would certainly be dynamite."

Jill's lips twitched and Leon mused, "...I'd afraid it would go nuclear."

Sighing, she warned him, "...I think these jokes blew up in your face, Kennedy."

He laughed, Quint giggled, and Barry called, "All aboard, boys and girls. We got a traitor to take down."

It was time to make sure the people of Tall Oaks got the justice they deserved.

* * *

**March 16th, 2013**

* * *

The swirling smoke nearly obscured the entire battle.

It happened so quickly. The creak of a door as they raced across the marketplace gone silent with evacuation. The rusty squeal of hinges and the puff of smoke from a burning shipyard just beyond. It was a catastrophic backdrop.

It was a terrible surprise.

Albert Wesker came through the metal doors in sunglasses and black. Jill shouted and brought up her weapon and he just...moved. He moved. It was impossible to move like that, but he did it. He feinted, he rolled, he backhanded her and sent her spinning into a pile of boxes thick with rotten fruit.

Leon shouted. The thud and thunk of fists and bullets peppered the putrid sky. Jill tried to get up as horror lanced into her and nearly made her vomit into the cloying stench of decayed fructose.

She rolled to her side and grabbed for her gun. Leon kicked Wesker into the heavy stone wall beside them and put Matilda against his forehead and a small voice shouted, "Leon! NOO!"

Sherry came out of the swirling smoke. She grabbed for him and shoved his arm aside. She put herself in front of the man hunkered against the wall and Jill roared, "MOVE SHERRY! GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

The girl shouted back, desperately, "It's not him! It's not! This is Steve Burnside! He's the only man alive with Wesker's antibodies!"

The crackle of tension was painful. As the flickering orange light gave way to swirling silver, it was evident that the ice blonde hair of the former Captain of S.T.A.R.S was missing. This kid was a strawberry blonde.

Softly, Leon intoned, "I'll be damned."

Sherry nodded and remarked, "There's no time to explain. No time but to tell you that we have to hurry. We have to stop him."

Leon grabbed her arm and grunted, "You know about Sim-"

"Hands off her, you asshole!"

Burnside shoved him in the chest so hard he stumbled. Jill shouted, "You piece of shit!"

And Sherry shoved Burnside back into the wall, "Stop it! Stop it, you idiot! Leon would _never _hurt me!"

Burnside paused. He turned his thin face to the other man and remarked, "Leon...Kennedy?"

Into the quiet silence, he added, "I...I was with Claire on Rockfort Island. You're Claire's Leon?"

Jill felt a shiver of something she didn't like and turned away from the rest of the conversation. She was so quiet as they separated from Sherry and Jake and started moving through the heavy industrial shipyard that he finally asked, "What is it?"

Jill said nothing so he added, "I can't believe that kid survived. Wesker must have shot him up with everything under the sun. I've got FOS working to meet them outside the marketplace, but Sherry gave me this."

Jill glanced at the little SD card and back at his face. He told her, "It's everything we need to bury Simmons. Details on the C-Virus that'll have him thrown into a cell so fast for treason he won't even have time to brush his greasy hair one more time."

"C?"

"Yeah. Chrysalid. It's those pods we saw...the things that hatch monsters and..."

Jill filled the quiet, "And clones."

"Yeah."

She paused in the first push of cool air to look at him. He looked so tired. He was flecked in blood and smeared with soot. They'd fought their way from one end of a filthy city to the other in pursuit of Simmons.

They were so close. Sherry had told them to meet her with Steve at the rendezvous point with him. Burnside had been full of information about Wesker's activities prior to his escape. He was an excellent resource...but how had they found him?

They answer to that was simple: Ada.

As he'd conjured her from mid air, something red streaked onto a balcony above them in a dilapidated building. Jill was just brushing dirt off his cheek when he shouted, "ADA!"

And started running.

That's how she found herself chasing him through a warehouse after the woman who'd once held him between her thighs like a prize. Annoyed, the echo of her boots was so loud on the steel floor that it worked like a gun shot to the start of a race to propel her forward. There was an echo of heavy artillery, a shout of anger, and she wasn't fast enough.

She just wasn't.

She rounded the balcony to find Leon in the middle of a heated brawl with-"

"CHRIS!?"

Her shout brought the two men up short, guns out, facing each down while Ada Wong hung around in the corner with a blinking set of dark eyes. Piers kept his weapon on her as he called, "Jill!? What the hell are you doing here?"

At the same time, Leon growled, "I can't let you kill her, Chris! She's a key witness! I need her alive!"

She started to answer and Chris was tired of playing nice, "A witness?! She's the one who did all of this!"

"No!" Leon's shout made Jill jump,"It was Simmons. Derek Simmons. Not her."

Chris' eyes flashed in rage, "It was _her! _I lost all my goddamn men in Edonia because of this cunt! You either get out of my way, or I'll put two through you into her."

Leon and Chris both hiked up their guns as Leon returned, "I can't! I can't...I need to know what moves Simmons is going to make! I need her to stop him! Please! Give me this, now, and I'll let you take her in. I swear to god!"

Ada finally spoke, "He won't take me in, Leon. You know that. He wants me dead. I can't say that I blame him, although his men were a necessary experiment..."

Jill gave her such a disgusted look that Ada finally qualified, "I had to know if the C-Virus worked. I had to. I spared him and the boy wonder here. I did that. I did that for you."

Jill laughed, sharply, and spat, "You bitch...you just failed to kill them. Don't make me laugh with this noble shit. Piers?"

"Ma'am?"

"Finish her."

Leon shouted, horrified, "Jill! NO!"

Looking for clarification, Piers asked, "Chris? Captain?"

Ada laughed, "Who's the bitch in red after all?" She tilted her head, "Got your hooks in and holding on, aren't you, darling?"

Jill flashed her teeth, "I got yours out of him, you cunt. I'm going to enjoy this."

She lifted her gun. Leon shouted for her to desist but couldn't take his own gun off Chris. Piers lifted his rifle and Chris shouted, "Enough! GODDAMN IT! Enough! Put down your fucking weapons."

Piers did, instantly, Jill hesitated and Ada cooed, "Taste that blood, don't you, darling? Missed it?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Leon warned, "Jill! Put the fucking gun down!"

Jill shook her head, "I should finish her. Right now. Give me a reason not to!"

"I need to avenge all those people, Jill. I need Adam to have died for a purpose here. I need her alive to find the answers. Please. Put it down."

"She's gonna watch you burn, Leon. She's not done yet. What's your game, Ada? What's your final destination?"

Ada simply smiled slyly. "Pull the trigger...and you'll never know."

Jill clicked off the safety.

Leon looked concerned...and then he stepped in front of Ada.

If he'd slapped her, Jill wouldn't have been more hurt. She froze. She let the barrel inch down on the gun. He lifted his hands to show himself unarmed. "Please, Jill. Trust me."

She let the barrel start to come down. Ada put her lips beside his ear and whispered, "...everything in the world Simmons wants...it's all inside her...so are you.._you son of a bitch. _Why couldn't you just play the game? I can't let Derek have her...I'm sorry."

Leon started to turn his head. Ada shoved a plunger into his back and made him fall to his hands at knees. Jill shouted and lifted the gun on her again. The world flashed white with a tossed flash bang.

Piers fired and the bullets smashed into the wall as Ada was jerked clear with her grapple gun. She hit the edge of the roof and shouted down, "Fools! I should have killed you the second Wesker brought you into that marketplace, Jill. You fucking bitch. I'm gonna enjoy watching him mourn you."

She fired.

The acrid stench of smoke and sulfur was cloying. Jill staggered and hit the wall as someone tackled her into the obscure shadows. She grunted and went down on her butt. The warm blood leaked all over her neck.

Terrified she shouted, "Leon!?"

But it wasn't his voice in her ear at all...it was Chris, "...even-stephens, Valentine...you saved me first..."

He collapsed atop her. She screamed in horror as the blood spilled hot and sticky all over her chest. His throat was just pumping it like on arterial spray can. Leon was trying to crawl toward them, but Ada had shot him with some kind of a paralytic.

His legs just wouldn't work.

His mouth found words, somehow, "..._Jill..."_

Her name was lost in the thick of it. She was deaf anyway. She was deaf and cold. She was deaf and dying. She was deaf and dead on the ground in the rain with the lightning above her and the wind taking away the world in a tornado of terrible grief.

Piers was already in pursuit of the fleeing Ada. He couldn't possibly know his husband's wound was mortal.

The world was smoke and horror.

Jill slapped her hands over his gushing neck, but it didn't matter. It couldn't. It was done.

Chris Redfield died above her on the cold steel. Totally still, totally limp, totally lost.

The only sound in the flickering smoke was the harsh rasp of her breathing.

Until it was finally, finally, finally broken by the guttural pain of her loss.

Just like that - the face of the fight against bioterror became a name on the wall of the fallen.


	36. No Hope: Part 3: Chap 8

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Three:**

**-Puppet Master-**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Descent**

* * *

**Fall**

** October 18th 2013**

* * *

The loss of Chris Redfield drove a wedge between them that was so vast, so wide, so murderous that it left nothing but emptiness between. Leon would never forget the moment she'd left him on the tarmac when the plane had landed and left them facing each other in the murderous wind. The rain and the pain and the end of something he'd just begun to yearn for.

She'd told him, without inflection, "...this is the first time since I met you that I wish I never had."

His heart.

It hurt like someone had ripped it clean from his chest and left it there in the blood beside Redfield.

They'd hardly spoken since Derek Simmons had died crying like a bitch and the world had warped and gone ragged around her loss. Jill was inconsolable at first. Her guilt, pain, torture and tender loss was palpable. She'd lost her best friend in the whole world. She'd leaped to her death and saved him, only to lose him to a bullet aimed at her by a spiteful bitch.

He was dead because of her.

The horror edged into her heart and made a home.

When they'd came back from China victorious over Simmons, but shattered by the losses they'd received, Leon threw himself into a one man quest to find Ada Wong. His own guilt chased him in circles over Chris' death. He'd stopped him, Leon thought wildly, he'd stopped him from killing her. He'd done that...and now Redfield was dead and the great warrior of the war on bioterror was gone.

His funeral brought all facets of the fight together to lay him to rest. It was a good service. It was a painful goodbye.

On the plane to the states, he'd tried to talk to Jill. Just once. Just one time. He'd come toward her and she'd told him, softly, "...I told you she'd destroy you. I warned you...but it wasn't you...it was _me. _You let her destroy _me. _He was my _family. _You stood there and let her destroy my family."

Frozen, heart-clenching, he'd whispered, "...I just wanted to avenge mine."

Jill had turned her head toward him and said sadly, "I know that. Now's your chance. Go after her. Take her out. Take her down..but you won't do it with me. You put her over me today. You should have killed her on that bridge in Raccoon City...and now my family is broken."

Shaken, he asked gruffly, "You saying this is my fault?"

"...I'm saying you let a piece of ass control you for so long that you deluded yourself into thinking she was good. I'm saying her jealousy over you and I got my best friend killed. I'm saying I should have killed her that first night in your apartment...or I should have never stopped trying to run from you. Loving you got Chris killed...we both know it. I wish I'd never touched you...I wish-I wish you'd left me to die. I died once to save him...and he died to save me...but he's not coming back...and that? That's _your _fault. I can't even look at you without knowing you chose a spy over the man who'd trusted you enough to ask you to save me. You were never worthy of that trust...ever. You're the reason Chris Redfield is in a body bag on his way to the morgue. You let your dick over rule your brain today...and he paid the price for it."

They stood there staring at each other until he finally grumbled, "...she wasn't aiming at me though, Jill, was she? She was aiming at _you..._you can hate me all you want...but I might be the reason she's alive...you're right...I might be that reason...but you're the reason he's dead. You. You climbed on my lap, honey. You made sure she knew what I was to you. You did that...I think you need to consider that maybe that finger of blame goes two ways."

"...does it? You could have killed her a half dozen times since I met you. You kept stopping me, you kept letting her go...she was on that catwalk because you let her live. She wanted me dead so she could have you right back where she wanted you...it was never me...it was _always _you. He's dead because you're a coward...and we both know it."

She turned her head back to the window.

He'd stood there rooted to the spot.

The shame and the guilt and the hurt had nearly left him raw and festering. He'd said nothing when she'd moved out of the little house they'd shared. He let her go. He let her leave him.

He couldn't blame her. He couldn't even fight her on it. He deserved it.

He'd let his own personal feelings allow him to make one stupid decision after another when it came to Ada Wong, and now she'd not only brought down Jill's world, she'd brought down his as well. The more he dug, the more he knew...she'd been behind Tall Oaks. She had to have been. With Simmons in her pocket, she'd played him like a fool to get rid of Adam.

The thing he couldn't explain was why.

When his legal resources ran out, he started down illegal ones. He started taking the root of a man with nothing to lose. He started kicking in doors on any contacts on Ada he could find. She'd been playing all these years with the idea that he was a puppy.

He wasn't, he was a goddamn wolf and he was going to rip the throats out of anyone it took to find her and take her down.

He chased her ghost across the West Indies and through Africa. He followed leads on her through the mountains of Pamir and down along the coast of Monte Carlo. He followed her like the winds of revenge she'd been stirring from the moment they'd met. He dug up intel on her after Raccoon.

He could tie her to things as early as Claire's imprisonment on Rockfort Island and Wesker's involvement in obtaining Burnside. He found her fingerprints on Harvardville and working with Frederic Downing on hijacking the T-Virus vaccines. He located strings between the plagas he'd allowed her to take in Spain and the outbreak of a new harvest of it found in the caves off the ivory coast. She'd blackmailed, bargained, stolen or seduced her way through most of the masterminds behind bioterror outbreaks as far back as Raccoon.

She wasn't just a spy.

She was a puppet master.

Each string she pulled made more and more men dance. She used her body like a weapon with her superior wit to guide her. The promise of her led men like Helen of Troy toward a battle that might cost them everything. She was a vixen, a brilliant and beautiful voracious man eater that made sure she carried all the coins of currency for those who wished to pass like they were seeking passage across the River Styx.

She had been slipping through the shadows while men fought the wars since the beginning. She was the whisper in the ear that had started a revolution. She was above the chessboard and shifting the pieces to play her own game to completion.

What was the end game?

He had three boards with everything he could find on her. He had red strings like stripes of blood across each as he followed her patterns and found her path. It was a cat and mouse game now, and he was excellent at finding the mouse.

But what was her end?

Simmons was dead. Adam was dead. His father was the incumbent vice president so he'd be assuming that seat soon enough.

What had she really done but drawn attention to the fact that bioterror was a global threat? In a way, Adam's death had furthered his agenda. There was no hiding the risk now. The world was aware that the monsters were real and waiting in their own back yard.

What had she gained by killing Adam?

What had she gained in Edonia by offing all Chris' men?

What did she think she'd gain by killing Jill?

He threw back another shot of whiskey and tapped his fingers on the desk where he perched. He did nothing but dig and research and chase down leads. He was obsessed with her now in a way he'd never been before.

He wasn't chasing the idea of a woman to love.

He was hunting a killer. He was a bloodhound and the scent of her was in his nose to spur him forward.

It was just him, whiskey, and revenge in this room. He'd barely left to shower. He hadn't shaved. He looked like a hobo and probably smelled worse. He was ragged and run down and running on sheer determination.

He was finding the tiniest of threads through CCTV and through methods that would make Adam roll in his grave. He'd take two fingers and the tip of a third off an arms dealer in Spain who had intel on Ada's alias Amy Lee. When he had the intel, he'd put two into the chest of the arms dealer and left him tied to a chair to die.

He'd tracked Amy Lee across most of Europe and found a lover of Ada's named Roy Delucca. Delucca was a well known international assassin who was available to the highest bidder. He worked for a ring of assassins known as The Syndicate. The Syndicate had leanings that were entirely based on wealth. If you paid, you got what you paid for. Delucca was on the payroll of some of the wealthiest terrorists around.

Ada wasn't there when Leon arrived, but she hadn't been gone long. He could still smell her fucking perfume as he and Delucca had a knockdown drag out fight that ended with Delucca tossed out an eighth-floor balcony to be turned into road pizza. The Syndicate was likely to have added Leon to their most wanted list, but the death of one of its players had netted Leon access to a gold mine.

Ada had fled in such a rush that she'd left her portfolio behind. The portfolio contained the name and addresses of eight members of the United States Congress. Among them? Ashley Graham.

Why?

Beside each Congressional member a status was listed - Red or Green. Graham was red. Did that mean targeted for elimination?

His father was on the paper in green. The former senator turned VP turned Presidential incumbent was circled twice. Why? What game was she playing here? Was it as simple as she needed a puppet in the White House and thought his father was a good fit?

Either way, he'd put in a call to Ashley and she was now digging into what she could find about possible corruption in the White House and the Congress. If Ada's claws were as deep as the VP, there was no telling what game she was playing. Why would she want control of the White House? Even if she enacted war using a puppet in the President's seat, she'd eventually be ousted by Congress.

Did she think to control every seat in the House and the Senate as well?

It was too reaching. It was too diverse. It couldn't be explained away that easily.

He needed more.

Like a man possessed, he set out to find it.

He was digging through websites on the dark web that dealt in arms exchange when the rustling of his sanctuary door brought his hand over, up, and aimed the end of Matilda at the face in the doorway.

Jill in a light blue coat.

He hadn't seen her in months.

He'd been so busy chasing Ada to end her, he'd simply let Jill leave him and never pursued her to reconcile. She was right. She was safer, better off, and free again. She was better without him.

His goddamn bones ached with missing her sometimes.

They stared at each other across the dusty, cluttered room. She looked soft somehow and beautiful. The blonde of her hair was loose and short. She'd chopped it off to settle just above her shoulders in a soft set of curls. Her face was fuller, radiant somehow with skin that glowed while his was sallow.

He glimpsed himself in the window beside the chair where he lounged - he looked like a hobo. He was slovenly and haggard. He'd lost weight and his cheeks were starting to turn hollow. He was like a dog with a bone, he did nothing but chew and ignored the rest of the world.

He waited for her to speak, but her gaze just searched the boards and walls that were covered with obsessive stalking of the woman who'd killed her best friend in the world. When he continued to stare at her, Jill stepped into the room and circled through it, reading and surveying and scanning.

After a moment, she mused, "I wondered what you were doing...they said you weren't working..."

Her laugh was sharp and hard, "...they lied. You've done nothing but work."

When he was silent, she turned her head to him, "You find her?"

He struck up a cigarette and dropped his boots off the desk to the floor with a snort and shrugged, "Not yet. What do you want, Jill? I'm maxed on guilt for the time being, so unless you came here with something to help me find her, it's probably best that you go."

She turned to look at him. His hair was long enough that it was shaggy to the point of being too much. It was stuffed behind his ears and restrained in a sloppy ponytail at the base of his neck in a stub. He looked tired, driven, and had a hollow-eyed almost manic look to him.

What had Chris said?

_You don't ever want Leon Kennedy tracking you, I promise you._

She got it.

Leon was finally showing Ada what kind of opponent he could be. He had her on the run. She had gone to ground and was hiding. She knew she was done. She knew he was after her.

Instead of trying to meet him in the middle, she was hiding out.

It proved she was as smart as they said.

She knew she couldn't take him head to head and win.

Jill remarked, "What happens when you find her?"

He gave her a droll look and inhaled on the cigarette. His lean face was obscured by a haze of smoke, "I'm gonna sit down and ask her nicely why she was a traitorous cunt. Then I'll bring her and put her up on charges."

Jill held his gaze until he snorted, "I'm gonna kill her, Jill. You know that. I'm gonna make sure she's done."

"...she's smart - wily- and wise. You think she'll let that happen peacefully?"

"Nope. But it doesn't matter. I'll go down to take her down too. That's how I make it right."

Jill froze where she stood. Her breath caught, "Make what right?"

He rubbed at his face with his hands and stubbed out the smoke. "The fact that I didn't do it on that bridge. You said it...and you were right. I failed everyone that night. I did that. I let her go. I let her go because I thought..." He trailed off and laughed painfully, "I thought she had good in her...I thought she was somehow, someway working toward the right end here. I thought-"

He gave up and shrugged, "Doesn't matter. I was wrong. Now Chris is dead and everyone in Tall Oaks and Adam and she's been pulling the strings all these years and I let that happen. I let it...because part of me thought maybe she loved me."

Jill said nothing as he added, "She was the architect of my misfortune. Like a goddamn Shakespearean tragedy. Well...it ends like one too. I'm gonna make sure Troy didn't burn for nothing."

When she said nothing, he looked up from the scatter of reports on the desk, "Why are you here, Jill?"

Softly, she told him, "I was wrong."

Surprised, he set his glasses down on the desk as she went on, "I was wrong. It was me she was trying to kill in China. Me. It wasn't because of you. I shouldn't have said the things I said to you...I was stupid and angry and looking for someone to blame...I shouldn't have made that you, Leon. It was me."

Leon lifted a hand at her to halt her, "...it doesn't matter anymore."

She winced but forged on, "It does. It matters. It was because..."

She trailed off. He shook his head, "It's not your fault, Jill. All of this, it's mine. I have to make it right. I have to take her down. I can't let her finish...if I'm right...she's going to try to get control of the White House. I can't figure out why...I can't figure out what for...but honest to god? It doesn't matter. I have to stop her."

Quietly, Jill wondered, "And if she kills you?"

"At least I died stopping her."

Jill shook her head, "...I can't...I can't let you. I can't."

His brows winged up, "Sweetheart, it's not your choice. You left me remember? That was your choice. You're free. Go live your life. I will do what I can to make sure you keep doing that. I won't cost you anything else, Jill. Not your freedom, not your family, not your time. This is how I repay you for keeping you like I did. This is all I can give you."

Jill kept on shaking her head and whispered, "It's not enough."

He felt an arrow of shame and remorse, "...I know that. I know it isn't, but it's all I got."

"No..I just-"She reached for the buttons on her coat. He watched her with his brows furrowed.

"Don't, honey, don't. You don't need to use your body to get what you want from me. Damnit, Jill, how many time do I have to say i-"

The coat fell down her arms to the floor. The dress was soft and blue with orange checks in a pretty Autumn plaid. It was over white stalkings and soft leather boots in buckskin brown that came to her knees. It was clinging nicely to her ample bosom...and her big belly.

His left hand went right over his mouth and held there.

Jill nodded rapidly, "Yeah...yeah. Yep. That's why she wanted me dead. This..." She touched her baby bump, "This...I'm due in about a week...I couldn't find you to tell you. You're really good at making sure no one can find you. I finally had Quint dig through digital foot prints and got lucky on a closed circuit feed out of Cairo. I only knew it was you because of your fucking hair. It sounds stupid, but I put your fucking leather coat I stole around a goddamn pillow some nights and slept on the floor with it."

She'd made herself a Leon body pillow. It might have been funny, if it wasn't such a hard jolt of shock still sending pulses of after math through his fucking balls.

He was so quiet. Her heart was racing hard and fast. Her mouth was dry. She felt like that first time she'd stood naked in front of him while he looked at her. Finally, she whispered, "...Rebecca thinks the antibiotics I was on for the flu negated my birth control. I stopped taking it because she thought I was having a reaction to it and that was causing the nausea...turns out...morning sickness."

His gaze finally lifted from her belly to her face and he asked, quietly, "Girl?"

Her eyes trembled wetly, "...boy...I was gonna name him Chris."

Leon nodded, his gaze on her belly, his hand still over his mouth. After a long silence, she finally added, "...I don't want you to die trying to avenge him. I don't want you to die at all. I'm sorry I turned away when you needed me. I'm a fucking asshole. I'm so so-"

He lifted that hand off his mouth to silence her. Softly, he intoned, "Fuck your sorry, Jill."

She nodded. She started to say something and he put his hand out to her. She hesitated and then laid her palm in his. He tugged her forward and she murmured, "...what kind of mother would I be, Leon? I don't know if I can d-"

His other hand laid flat on her belly and she fell silent. Her hands shifted to his face as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her belly. Without a word, he slayed her as he touched his forehead to her belly and she urged gently, "I know I've leaned on you so much. I know it's unfair to ask...but I need to ask you to tell me what you want here."

When he was silent, she continued, "Do you want to raise this baby? I...I don't know if I can-I just don't know what to do here."

His hand slid under her dress and over her bare belly. She made a small of surprise as he pressed against her taut skin and waited. After a moment, the baby kicked his palm. His laugh was hoarse and happy.

And he lifted his head to look at her. "...you asking me if I want him?"

Jill nodded, her mouth dry, "Yeah...I'm asking you if you want him."

He tugged up her dress completely to see her exposed girth. She was plump and perfect. That belly jutted from her lean frame almost obscenely big. She was beautiful. The luscious swell of her perfect tits in a simple white cotton bra. The generous flare of her hips and thighs. Her naval was distended over her convex torso.

Quietly, he avowed, "...fuck...that's _beautiful."_

Undone, Jill caught his face and told him, "...you're damn right it is."

His gaze turned up to her face. They both knew they were speaking of the other. They both knew it was a defining moment for them. He told her, gently, "I'm in. I'm all in. I want him...and you. I want you both."

Her heart snapped a sharp tattoo before he clarified, "...but I have to finish this. I have to finish it, Jill. If you can't be with me while I do, I understand that. I want you safe...and him...I want you both safe. I will take care of you, both of you. You don't have to be with me for that."

Eagerly, she offered, "I want you to wait...I want you to wait for that, Leon. Wait. Come with me, now, and be with me, now. Wait for revenge. Wait."

Jesus.

She straddled his lap. She sank down atop him to hold him. His arms curled around her. Hers pressed his ear to her beating heart over those beautiful full breasts. Her big belly pressed to his and the baby they'd created in her womb kicked him once.

Wait.

She wanted him to wait.

Ada was out there in the world working whatever master plan of hers that could spell more than a Presidential assassination. Could he live with himself if he just...stopped?

So, he told the woman atop him, "...I can't. I have to find her, Jill. I have to stop her. I can't let her go again."

The silence stretched out. It was louder than words.

Finally, Jill rose off his lap. He let her go, heart shivering, as she returned, "...one way or another, she will always have you...and she will always ruin your life...I don't know how to compete with that."

He grabbed for her hand. He held on when she resisted and vowed, "It's you, Jill. Look at me."

She stared out the window beside them until he urged again, "Look at me, Jill."

Her gaze snapped to his face and Leon remarked, "If I don't stop her, now, she will come for that fucking baby in your belly. She will come for it, kill you, and take our child. Why? Because that's why she wanted you dead. To stop it from being born so Simmons couldn't have it. Now? Now it's currency. She will take our son and use him to get whatever power she needs to finish what she's started here."

Jill snapped, angrily, "And what is that, Leon? What's her end game here?"

Urgently, he confessed, "I don't know."

She started to jerk away again and he held on, "But I'm close. I'm close here, Jill. I have to stop her. Adam, Chris, Tall Oaks, Raccoon...all those people...they can't have died for nothing. I have to stop her. I have to. I will protect you. I will protect our son. No matter what it costs me. If it costs me you...if it costs me everything...I will protect you both."

Desperate, she turned toward him again to take his face, "Let me help you."

Denying her, he tried to tug away and she begged, "Let me help you, Leon. I can. I have resources. Let me help. I won't lose you to her. Not again. Not _ever _again. Let me protect you, the only way I can."

After a tense moment, he kicked the chair out from the desk across from him. Their eyes held until he finally said, "Just research, Jill. Do you understand me? Just research."

She took the seat and gave him a droll look, "I look like I can kick asses right this minute?"

He pursed his lips, "I wouldn't ever count you out, kid."

His eyes strayed to her belly again and she smiled, shrugging, "That's right. All that fucking without condoms? Turns out sometimes it makes a baby."

Leon chuckled as he shifted toward the first board, "Good to know at least one part of me works, I guess. What about-"

"The risk of passing on something genetically?"

He glanced over his shoulder as Jill told him, "You're just a man, Kennedy - a man with some incredible genes, definitely- but just a man. The baby will get our immunity...but it's not going to come out with wings or tentacles."

He cleared his throat and demanded, "How can you be sure?"

"I've had blood tests and ultrasounds and every other possible test...here..." She tugged the little black and white picture from her pocket on her coat and offered it to him.

His hand tugged it up and the little thing on it almost appeared to be waving. Fuck. It was in 4D or something and crystal clear. He could see the baby's features almost perfectly.

Quietly, Jill intoned, "See? A baby, Leon. Just a baby. Stop worrying that you planted a litter of mutant puppies in my belly."

His left hand shifted to rub over his mouth. She watched his tired eyes scan each delicate feature. She watched the warrior battle the man and urged, "It's okay to tear up, tough guy. I won't tell anyone."

His laugh was a little hoarse as he lowered the ultrasound picture, tucked it into his back pocket and made her smile, and turned back to the board. At the desk, Jill finally spoke into the heavy silence, "...so...let's find this bitch so we can start putting some weight back on you."

Surprised, he glanced over his shoulder and she mused, "Yeah. Your ass is skinnier than Rebecca's right now, handsome. Eat a fucking cheeseburger and fatten up a bit. I can't be the fat one when I'm done being pregnant. You hear me?"

It felt pretty good to laugh. He'd missed her. He figured, under it all, he'd always miss her when she was gone. Now? Now it was time to make sure she was safe and happy.

It wasn't just her he was protecting anymore.

It was _them. _

It was the first time he understood what it meant to really have a family.

And the first time he knew he'd stop at nothing to protect it.

* * *

Two days later, Jill delivered a healthy baby boy.

He was six pounds and one ounce, lively, and graced with a suitably bald head. Amused, Leon held the bundle of him and remarked, "You shame me, little man, where's your coif?"

Jill, tired in the bed, chuckled, "Apparently the hair isn't genetic."

As she rested, Leon held the baby by the window and let the moonlight guild his tiny face. Christopher Adam Kennedy. A good name...hopefully not cursed with the same neanderthal vibes of the man who'd previously bore it.

Leon touched his fingers to the tiny mouth and made his son smile. The guilt of the loss of Chris Redfield would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. Claire, at the funeral, had refused to even speak to him.

She'd ignored both he and Jill and left without a word.

Apparently, she blamed them both for the loss of her brother.

He couldn't hold it against her. He did too. Not Jill, but him. It was his fault. Ada - she was his responsibility and his mistake.

He was going to correct it or die trying.

He pressed a soft kiss to that sleeping mouth and skimmed a thumb down the little cleft in his chin. Maybe the hair wasn't genetic, but the buttchin was. Mouth quirked, he confessed, "...I think I've been waiting my whole life to meet you."

In the bed behind him, Jill feigned sleep as she watched them. Her heart throbbed a little at his confession and she thought - _that makes two of us, Mr. Kennedy. I feel the same way about you both._

She watched him cuddle his son and felt a tremble of fear. For the life of her, she couldn't let go of the feeling that they were both on borrowed time.


	37. No Hope Left: Part 3: Chap9

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Three:**

**-Puppet Master-**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Penultimate**

* * *

**Fall**

**2015**

* * *

They called him Kit. His nickname stuck and left them with a sense of something like wonder as he grew.

The hair that came in was blonde and soft.

The eyes were the blue of a sky before winter.

He was a baby that never slept and a baby that was always eating. In the light of looking for Ada and learning to parent, they lost each other as new parents often will. They were all work and no play.

Jill would sometimes wake up panting in the middle of the night and he'd find her asleep on the floor beside Kit's crib like a guardian or a watchdog or a wounded warrior looking to guard her world.

Each stone he upturned, unearthed another layer of lies to find his way through. Ada was good at hiding. She'd been lying and hiding for decades. When she knew he was searching for her, she went further into the dark.

He weeded his way through her associates. He put them in the ground, he put them behind bars, he questioned the ones who talked and tortured the ones who didn't. He scorched the earth searching for her and left ashes behind.

Obsessed with her in a way he'd never been before, he dug through her identities and her footprints and her past. He looked for lines that crossed and intersected. He bribed and blackmailed and bargained to dig up artifacts of who she really was.

* * *

**Fall 2016**

* * *

Kit started walking at a year old.

He toddled and giggled and tossed his hair in a way that was entirely Leon. He tossed a ball and spoke garbled words like Dada and Mama and poop. He made them laugh when he burst with giggles over the smallest of things. He loved their little Hope and chased the cat everywhere.

Leon took Jill's suggestion to heart and bulked up. He poured on muscle like he was making himself a human tank in memory of the fallen Redfield. When he bordered on too big, she found him in the field behind the cottage firing into his homemade range and cautioned, "You can't be huge and be fast, Kennedy. Ease down."

She was right.

So he laid off the lifting and focused again on agility. He honed the muscle and refined his skills. He hunted, he hounded the missing bitch in red, and he somehow managed to be the father Adam would have wanted.

When Kit celebrated his first birthday, they had a big party. Everyone came, every one laughed, everyone enjoyed. Claire didn't come. Claire never spoke to either of them. She hadn't, not a word, in two years. It stung, but he'd never blamed the redhead for it.

Not once.

Jill felt her loss. They'd been close once, family, and Claire wanted nothing to do with her now. She didn't say anything, but he knew she was hurting with it.

One night, Jill found him in the kitchen washing up the dinner dishes and remarked, "...maybe it's time to stop looking for her."

He said nothing.

Jill tried one last time to reach him, "You don't sleep, Leon. You barely ever relax. Is it really worth it?"

He finally said, without turning, "I'm here, aren't I? I'm good to you. I'm good to Kit. I'm here."

Softly, she wondered, "...are you? You haven't touched me since he was born."

She left him standing in the kitchen with his hands in the water. He was frozen. He blinked at his reflection in the glass above the sink. He hadn't touched her. She was right about that.

He'd been so busy trying to avenge the loss he'd caused her, he'd stopped being a man to be a hunter. The truth was nearly painful for him to admit.

He pulled his hands from the water and left the dishes.

Jill was in a pair of jeans and a soft white sweater folding Kit's clothes on the bed.

Without looking over at him, she remarked, "...at first I figured you were in love with her."

He leaned on the jamb as she added, "But it's not that simple...it's some kind of obsession that I can't understand..."

She set the basket of clothing on the dresser as she slid off the bed and shrugged, moving toward the closet. "First you wanted her...now? Now I don't know what you want from her."

Gruffly, he returned, "I want to kill her."

Jill froze with her hands hanging up a shirt. She turned toward him, "...why?"

"Because that's the only way this ends for her. She was never what I thought she was...ever. Don't be jealous of her."

Jill laughed, harshly, and turned back to the closet, "How could I not? You spend any time you're not with Kit hunting her like a bloodhound. She's all you think about. She's your world in a way I never was."

He'd failed her somewhere along the way. Trying to protect her, he'd failed her. With a flicker of anger in his voice, he commanded, "Shut up, Jill."

Surprised, she looked over her shoulder. There must have been something on his face because she flushed with color in her cheeks and the short blonde bob of her hair shivered as she trembled, "...don't talk to me like that. I'm here. _I'm here..._and where are you?"

"I'm right here."

"No, you're not. You're wherever Ada Wong is. That's where you are. Why don't you just-" She waved her hands, "Go. Go get her. Fuck her, finish her off, fight her until you both go down in a blaze of glory...or finally own her. Go do whatever it is that keeps you up at night chasing her...when you could be chasing me."

It was interesting to know that when he'd met her, that would have hurt him to hear. It didn't hurt him now; it empowered him. He knew what was behind it. It wasn't anything more than loneliness. She could have found a man while he'd been so busy chasing redemption.

She hadn't.

She was still here...just waiting for him. His heart swelled a little.

His teeth flashed in a wolfish smile. "Miss me, do you?"

She rolled her eyes and turned away from him again, "Go check on your son and leave me alone."

When he didn't answer, Jill continued to hang up clothes. He made her nearly jump out of her skin when he spoke again, low and demanding, "Take off your clothes and turn around, Jill."

She heard the chair of her vanity make a sound as he pulled it back. He sat down in the chair and waited, watching her. She turned toward him and stared back.

Head tilted, he told her, "I'm here...what do you need?"

The navy t-shirt he wore stretched snug over all those muscles in his chest and arms. The jeans were pettably old and soft and pale. The ankles frayed over his perfect bare feet. She adored the shaggy spill of his hair over those curious cool blue eyes.

And he was there, as he always was, just letting her decide what she wanted.

She reached down and undid her jeans. They tumbled to the floor as she stepped out of them and crossed toward him, stating, "I want her out of you. I want her gone. What will it take to get her out of you?"

She lifted the sweater over her head. The bra was pale and plain in a blue like his eyes. Those breasts of hers were bigger and fuller since she'd given birth in a way that made his mouth water.

She straddled his thighs as he answered, "...she's not in me, kid. She hasn't been in a long time...but how about we see how far you'll let _me_ in _you."_

Without a word, she shifted his hands to the hips of her panties. He pulled them down her legs and she stepped out of them. He reached between her thighs to touch her, and she finally whispered, "..you've been in me from that first fucking night you let me touch you...you wanna let me touch you now, Mr. Kennedy?"

His hand looped around the back of her neck to tug her down. Their noses brushed and he urged, "...wherever, whenever, and however you want, sweetheart. Don't you get it, Valentine? I'm not hers. I'm _yours."_

So, she simply scoffed, "...I _hate _you."

And he laughed.

She took his shirt. He reached for her bra. They kissed wetly and deeply and fully. Her gasping groan as he discovered how needy she was, made him grunt with excitement as she freed him from his pants to stroke his erection in her palm. Hard and ready, it pulsed somehow pretty and pink in her open palm. She ran her finger around the tender hood, stroking a thumb along the slit at the top until it wept for her. She gripped both fingers around the base and tugged, watching his face, watching his body, feeling and smelling his reactions to her.

Tenderly, she tasted him with a tongue that curled under the sticky head until he was slick and glistening. Her lips opened and looked pale beside the girth of him as she swallowed him down and let her throat open. Wide and ready, he made her throat constrict when it came to the end of her mouth and demanded she let him pass. How far would she let him in?

Her eyes rolled up toward him. He gruffed, "...you don't have to hurt yourself, Jill."

She gagged once in answer and the spit nestled down in his groin hair as he grunted and grabbed hand fulls of her hair to guide her. He watched her work for the whole taste of him, her mouth open in a pretty circle as her lashes fluttered and the width of his cock choked her enough that she moaned. Jill's throat squeezed as she fought against the gag reflex, and he resisted the urge to thrust up into her mouth. A dangerous game, it seemed, to let someone in.

When her nose brushed his belly, and he was seated fully inside her, he scooped back her hair as he trembled and groaned, "...yeah...I'm _yours."_

He was, in that moment, he was all in. He'd promised he would be, she thought with desperate glee, and here they were. She hummed, he cursed with need, and tugged her off him before he came in her mouth. She went, her empty throat throbbing as his wet dick abandoned its possession of her. It glittered somehow in the low lighting as he pulled her up and turned her over one of his thighs. Her knees hit the floor, her ass lifted madly, and his hand struck her bottom with a sound that made them both moan.

He couldn't figure out why he'd forgotten to fill her up every night while he was trying to destroy the woman who'd made him her toy for years and never really wanted him. What possible reason was good enough to ignore the woman who'd spent years just resisting the urge to want him at all?

He'd make it up to her for the rest of their lives.

His hand slid around her hip and struck, smacking loud and sharp. She gasped, trembling, as her bottom blushed with pleasure. When she cooed a little, he spanked her again as she shivered.

His fingers played in the swollen wet of her while she squirmed and made small sobs of need and arch into each meaty smack of skin to skin as he struck her blushing butt. Jill turned her head as she pushed her ass back on his invading digits and her hands gathered at his jutting cock to stroke and suck him.

He watched her try to swallow him while she alternately rose up to lick and torture with her tongue and lips and suck the tender flavor of his eager balls into her waiting mouth. Cursing, Leon drilled her so fast with those fingers that she cried out around his cock and creamed all over his hand. Hoarsely, he told her, "...you're so fucking beautiful, Jill. Let me see you cum."

Her face flushed with the dirty encouragement, charming him in the middle of the best damn head of his life, and he told her, "...beautiful. I wanna see you let go. Let go for me, I've got you."

She wanted to. She almost _needed _to.

And so she did. Almost on demand. She lifted her neck when he tugged her face up; he leaned down to tongue her mouth while she seated herself fully on his claiming hand, and she came all over him while he spanked her until it stung in a way that she coveted.

She'd somehow reclaimed herself and become the only thing in his world that made sense. A broken mess, she was a woman now. A real one, one swollen and desperate with want and wonder. Her heavy breasts bounced against his leg and made him want to feast on her. She was a goddess. If he could, he'd worship at her feet forever.

It was a mystery to him how she could think there was ever, anyone, in him the way she was. In the other room, their child slept. She'd given him hope and love and desperate, continuous, unending joy. He couldn't let Ada take that. She had to understand it. She had to.

How did he get her to see it?

He tugged her up by her hair to kiss her. She turned to straddle him. Her sticky wetness smeared all over his lap as she grabbed fist fulls of his hair to thrust her tongue into his mouth and leave him breathless.

When she was naked, he couldn't stop touching her. The needy weight of her breasts, the soft skin of her hips, the perfect length of her throat. He stroked her as he guided her over his lap. She brought his face to her breasts to feast as she lowered herself onto him and he guided the needy throb of his erection into her eager heat.

His left hand cupped one of her breasts to mold her and her body took him in with a wet sound of completion. He watched himself sink into her completely, felt her body accept him and seal them together, and loved her. He just loved her. He didn't know when it had started and it didn't matter. Ada was right after all - he'd fallen in love with the woman he'd been trying to save. He was _that _guy. The guy who loved being a hero. He'd saved her, she'd saved him, and now he was hers.

He was a cuck. It was the first time he was happy to admit it.

She contracted, grasping for his sides to anchor herself, and he stopped being slow. The sucking sounds of her surrender were punctuated with the harsh rasp of her breath. Watching her he slowly pushed into her while she made small sounds. He tried to see how far in he could go before her body rejected him. Jill gripped the bones of his hips to grind him inside of her.

Leon's hand tucked against her abdomen just over her pelvis. He watched her as she got it. She just...got it. Her heavy-lidded eyes softened in a way that somehow, someway, healed something in him he hadn't known was rended and raw.

Jill grabbed his wrist and pressed it against her belly. She rolled her hips to take him further into him. His breath hitched as pleasure speared into his groin and made his girth pulse inside of her.

It showed on her face as her mouth opened. She nodded, she hooked her ankles around his in the chair to pull him into her again, and she gasped, "...harder."

He couldn't remember, at that moment, why he'd even considered the opposite.

The hand on her pelvis slid just a little south. His fingers stayed splayed against her groin and his thumb and her fingers joined together at the apex of her body where he was thrusting so painfully slowly. They met at her waiting clit and circled, her tight sheath milked him and her eyes rolled wildly in pleasure, and he gave up trying to remember why he shouldn't do it. He gave her what they both needed.

One hand slid around her back side and stroked her stinging ass, he cupped a hand under one aching cheek and lifted her up until she was nearly off him. She whimpered and he grunted, "...take it."

So she slapped down on him so hard it nearly hurt them both.

He groaned. She stuck her nails in his back and jerked, and the pain of it was perfect somehow. He grabbed her throat and her hair to jerk her back into a near perfect arch, plowed her while she rolled her hips atop him as if she were power pedaling or something, and watched his cock claim her with a fluid sound of surrender.

He wasn't thinking of revenge as he fucked her.

He was thinking of love.

He was thinking of redemption.

He was just thinking of hope.

And he dumped it all inside of her while she cried in release.

* * *

When they lay in bed, Jill snored gently with her arm around his belly and her eesr on his chest. Leon stared at the swirling fan blades above them. The light from the window cast his face in shadows and contrast.

Was she right?

Had he forsaken her for his own quest for redemption?

She wasn't wrong, not exactly, but he'd never forsaken her. He'd held on long after the rest of the world had written her off as a traitor. He was here, holding her now, because the idea of not having her left him numb.

He wanted Ada gone to make sure everything in his world was safe. For the first time since he'd met her, Ada Wong was a threat to him in ways that he couldn't abide. He'd severed the ties that bound them for Jill.

He was going to make Ada paid for all the lives she'd ruined.

If that meant that Jill drifted away from him...he was going to have to make peace with it. He'd rather she was safe and no longer in love with him than in his arms and vulnerable. He'd give her up to save her life. He'd give up his own life for the baby in the crib in the other room.

He'd fight and die for them. He'd asked once what was worth fighting for. Adam had told him, simply, unequivocally, "...what else? Family."

He understood now what that meant.

It was inside of the woman beside him. It was inside of him. It was here, in this moment, and there in the other room sleeping. His phone buzzed on the nightstand and Leon rolled toward it to lift it and scan the text.

Ashley had finally found the link between Ada and Leon's father. He had a mistress, apparently, and was only spotted once with her shortly before Tall Oaks had fallen. Leon scanned the picture with narrowed eyes.

Why was she familiar?

His photographic memory went into over drive. Finally, it settled on the report filed by Redfield after the incident with Il Veltro and the T-Abyss virus. Surprised, his brows arched as he texted back to Ashley.

_Jessica Sherawat._

Ashley's response was: _How'd you know?_

And he replied: _What does she have to do with Ada?_

After a short pause, Ashley returned: _Both of them have ties to Wesker through Excella Gionne. The one aerial shot that my investigator could dig up has all three of them at a party in 2002. Look closely, very closely, at the symbol on the folder in Sherawat's hands._

The photo was grainy, but Ashley had circled it and made life easy. On the folder, being passed to her by Excella Gionne, was a very, very familiar symbol. He'd seen it himself on the back left hip of the woman in red as she'd risen above him in the moonlight naked.

A butterfly.

A red butterfly.

In a single photo, the truth was staring him in the face. Ada wasn't just the spy...she was the mastermind. She was the puppet master. She was the woman pulling the string. The red butterfly was the symbol of her circle of spies, he had no doubt.

Sherawat was likely just one of the traitors in her employ.

Jessica Sherawat was his father's mistress. Why? What could they want with putting her there? What was the plan? To have her replace the first lady? They didn't understand that his father wasn't a man who'd set aside his wife for a piece of ass. He was too into labels and status. He'd never put a mistress in the White House beside him.

What was the game here?

He needed to find the link between Sherawat, Ada, Gionne, Wesker...and the White House. Had Ada been the power behind the monsters all along? Which Wesker was she working with? Had they all been working _against _Albert Wesker but _with _Alex?

The possibilities were endless.

When Jill roused a little, she spoke sleepily, "...Jessica? My god...did you find her!? What's she doing with your father? "

Leon, wanting to keep her out of it, rolled her beneath him to make her forget and try to settle his mind. He parted the flavor of her to feast on her pussy while she bucked against his face. She just gave in to him. The immediate capitulation of it left him hungry for more than revenge.

When she was wet and hot, he rose up and rolled her to her belly. His hands caught her hips, jerked her body up like a teepee, and plunged into her slick oval from behind. He wasn't easy. He was hard. She gasped, she grabbed manically over her hip and he pinned her arms behind her back while he tried to split her in half.

She keened, cumming for him, as his hips plunged and her body bowed to meet each ruthless rutting thrust. He thought she was a gift, more than he deserved, and the most honest thing he'd ever seen. He wanted to fill her belly with more children. He wanted to finish his vengeance and finally settle here with her and be happy.

He wanted to stay buried in her until they were both empty of anything but each other.

As he gasped, he grunted, "What do you need?"

And Jill cried out, "...oh, god Leon...just-_please!"_

They'd come a long way from the girl who'd tried to throw herself off the roof and the man with no hope left. His hands gathered her up until she was sweatily pressed to his front as he kept fucking her and he groaned, "Please, what, Jill? What?"

Her face turned over her shoulder. She kissed him sloppily. Her hands slid down his back to grab his ass and pull him against her harder and faster as she demanded, "...I need to forget..make me forget."

So he did.

He cupped her groin where his body claimed hers and stroked her from where they merged to the top of her swollen slit. Jill gasped high and threw her hand to help him finger her. Leon felt her tighten as she came, and bathed her insides with his need for her. He figured he could cum in her until she was covered in him and it still wouldn't be enough to ever make him feel secure with her. He had to make it known what he wanted here- no games. He was _done _with games. She whined, he sucked her tongue, and he plunged through his release until she sagged back against him. She let him jerk her limp body around as he finished, hands cupped around her breasts, softened member still nestled inside of her with no plans on leaving.

When she shivered and he clutched her shaking, he told her, "...I want more children."

Her breath hitched. Her eyes opened. She trembled, "...why?"

A good question.

So, he answered it, "...because I didn't think I'd ever want them. Because I want them with you. Because it's time for me to stop whining about being a legacy and start being something worth living up to. I can do that, Jill. I can be a father. I want to. Because I want them in a world where I can make sure they're safe. I'm going to stop her. I have to stop her...and then I want you to say yes and give me children. I want you to retire and raise them with me. That's what I want...say yes."

Not a marriage proposal, but she didn't need one. Marriage was another kind of cage she wasn't ready to be kept in.

His hands had her pinned to his front and spitted on his dick like a moth on display, but he'd let go if she wanted. He'd let her go. She wasn't a prisoner to him anymore, she was a captive to her own feelings. She loved him- impossibly, completely, without question..even when part of her wanted to strangle him until his eyes bugged out. Jill quivered and gasped, "...yes...but only because I hate you."

They kissed again, he started moving inside of her half erect and sticky, and they both shared the yes between them like their tongues.

* * *

As he played Dad and chauffeured his son to the doctor the next morning for a check up, he took phone calls regarding the movements of Sherawat. He coordinated with Ashley on how to tail the current POTUS, also his father, and see if that led them to her and ultimately to Ada. He set up a watch on his former home and that of Excella Gionne's family just in case Sherawat was hiding out there among the former Tricell Director's estate.

He was paused at a stop light when his phone rang. The number was unknown, but that wasn't uncommon. Leon hit the button on his car console and the sound of fighting filled the car.

It was muffled and distant. There was the thump and crash of breaking things and the sharp tinkle of glass. A soft cry was followed by the very clear sound of a gun.

Harsh breathing filled the car as Leon spoke, cold and between his teeth, "...I'm gonna give you one chance to tell me that's a movie playing in the background."

There was a rustle of noise and a cool voice told him, "...she killed two of my men. She's a bitch, feisty, but even bitches can't stand up to fists. Nice tits on her. She fuck as good as she looks?"

The chilling spill of rage brought Leon's voice out like a snap of winter wind, "...I'm gonna enjoy watching you die."

"Yeah?" Taunted the voice, "Maybe I'll fuck your bitch before I turn her over. I'm just the guy paid for the prize, jackass. You're threats don't mean shit to me."

Leon ran three red lights without breaking a sweat as he raced for the house, "They should. Whatever she's paying you? It's not enough. I'm gonna gut you like a pig and watch you die squealing."

The man scoffed, "...big talk...for a fucking trust fund kid. I don't care what her reasons are, pal, I just hand over the goods for the cash. Do yourself a favor, and find the money man behind me. Don't waste time threatening the help."

"You've got one chance to leave her there - one- you take her, you make me chase you, and you're gonna find out what the money man behind you already knows."

"Oh? What's that?"

"...that they sent you after _her_ because there was no way you could take _me_ on and win. You have any idea who you're fucking with?"

The man scoffed and answered, "What's that supposed to scare me? You think you're John Wick? You ain't my babayaga, guy, so come and get me. Game on, shithead. See if you can get her before I start hacking her up...starting with those perfect tits."

The line clicked off. Leon gunned the engine on the Jaguar and dialed Hunnigan as he drove. He ordered back up, anything from local to state, and told her to get them to the cottage. He called Barry Burton to get him to meet him there and take over care of Kit.

Ada knew he was close. She knew he was two steps behind her. She'd taken Jill.

She'd taken Jill to send him on a wild goose chase after her and give Ada time to run even further. What was the plan here? Trade the mother for the son? Did she really think he'd hand over his own child?

She likely did. Ada's only weakness was that she underestimated the human heart. She thought love was an illusion, a fabrication of a feeble mind looking for a purpose to do nefarious things and excuse themselves for it. Sentiment wasn't something she ever felt compelled to fake.

He hadn't chased her to make her his wife all these years. He'd chased her to make her his possession. He wanted her the way he wanted a drink at the end of a long day. Something dark, damning, and addictive that would leave him with a clouded mind and an empty dick. He'd never imagined that saying yes to playing guardian to a broken mess would help him discover there were things beyond the emptiness of solitude and a good hard fuck in a quiet room.

Ada thought he'd value the women he loved over his off spring. She'd, literally, refer to his son as "off spring".

He knew it.

But he was going to do exactly what she wanted anyway. He was going after Jill. When he found her, he was going to rip apart the men who'd taken her like a dog with a chew toy. He was going to paint the walls with their blood.

And then he was going to make sure the bitch in red died in her own.


	38. No Hope: Part 3: Chap 10

**A/N: **_Big long chapter...apologies.__** O**ne more after this to tie it all up. I can't believe it's over. This one got pieces of me as I went, so thank you to the handful of folks who came with me, I cherish every one of you. **Stardust**, my steadfast reviewer, I adore you._

* * *

No** Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Three:**

**-Puppet Master-**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Mirrors**

* * *

**Winter 2016**

* * *

The toll of Christmas bells permeated the frigid air. As he walked, the crunch of boots in snow was somehow loud against the otherwise silent night sky. He listened to the holiday cheer, like a distant din, lulling people into a spirit of everlasting joy. Somewhere, the world was rejoicing.

A savior was born.

The wet crunch of bone joined a chorus of gurgling death. It was followed by the silenced rapport of a coup de grâce. Blood sprayed in a misty gust around his boots as he stepped over the fallen. The rolling eyes of the dead were punctuated by a ragged hole and the missing tunnel of skull above it; being executed at point blank range tended to leave brain matter scattered around like fallen leaves.

The man in the widening pool of blood lay on his back, put there by a heavy round between his pleading eyes, with a leg cocked up beneath his hip from the shattered knee cap that had put him down to die. There was no pity or sympathy on the executioner who stepped over him as the flutter a picture of a woman and child was caught by the merciless winter wind and carried away to the back drop of revelry. They said it was the day the lord came into being.

He knew it was the day the monster they'd created did.

He used every skill they taught him, every move they'd cultivated, every weapon he'd mastered at their behest. If Ada thought she knew what hell hath no fury looked like, she was living in the same world that was bright with hope behind him. He'd declined the help of Barry Burton and the BSAA to find Jill. They'd sent scouts anyway, but he didn't need them.

He didn't need anyone.

At some point from the moment he'd brought Jill home to heal her, he'd forgotten that. He was a weapon - engineered and erected to pursue, persecute, and dispose of enemies of the United States of America. Hours and hours and days on end of training had made sure he knew how to survive and how to make sure his enemies didn't. The idiot on the phone had joked about John Wick - he shouldn't have. If there was a bioterror equivalent of the erstwhile anti-hero, Leon Kennedy was that man.

It wasn't his dog he was after, it was him woman. They couldn't even being to understand what he was capable of to find her. She wasn't just his, she was his son's, and he'd kill every last person between them until he brought her back to him.

The first man out the door of the office building died before he finished lifting his gun. The second took a clean shot in the throat, staggered and sprayed the wall behind Leon with the spasm of his muscles pulling the trigger anyway, and fell to his back in the snow beside his fallen comrade. Cake. It was all cake. Under trained, poorly coordinated, sloppily assembled teams posed no threat to him.

Did they think putting a gun in the hands of a thug made him a warrior?

Quietly, breath fogging out in white as he spoke, Leon admonished, "...fools."

And they were. They were all fools. They should lay down their arms and walk away. Instead, they just kept on coming at him. They came, they fought, they died and they never even winged him.

They just weren't that good.

He stepped into the heat of the office lobby to the drone of elevator Christmas music. A pretty tree sat to one side, sparkling with lights and ornaments, graced with candy canes and popcorn, covered in glitter and joy. Joy. He was devoid of it. It was in there, somewhere, under the well of a rage so deep and wide it had created a canyon inside of him that left nothing but revenge behind.

The man at the desk was just a security guard. He rose, hesitated his hand over the pistol in his holster at his hip, and raised them both instead as if he'd commanded it. Studying him, from big belly to white crop of hair and the name plate that read Herb, Leon figured he was somebody's grandpa. He figured, grandpa needed to come home for the holidays. So he told the man, "Run. Tell no one. Go home."

The man nodded wildly and ran for the door. He left into the cold without a backward glance. Herb the security guard was no fool.

Leon stepped behind the console where he'd been. The building was a high rise - 96 floors to be exact- and a fitting place for him to finish off the woman who'd spent so long trying to control him. 96 floors is how it all started. 96 floors up with a woman who was now his world...and the one who'd spent a life time trying to rule it.

He studied the layout and the cameras, he flipped through feeds on various floors to find Ada had control of the whole thing. There were little worker bees in offices, there were levels that were laid out for laboratory and viral replication, there were training levels and weapons storage - Ada didn't have just an office building here, she had a fortress. It was a compound at her command.

She was never a fool either, it seemed.

Leon flipped channels until he located Jill. His hand froze, finding her secured to a chair on the 95th floor. She looked beat up, bruised, and angry. She was shouting at the man who leaned on the wall giving her a dirty look. When she said something particularly offensive, he open hand slapped her face.

Her head jerked to the side and she spit on the floor, cursing at him. Leon licked his teeth and kept that channel active as he looped through others trying to find the woman in question. Ada was on the pent house level, and the security cameras wouldn't violate her privacy to let Leon know what she was up to. He had no doubt he'd never be able to access that floor without the right codes and equipment. His own penthouse was a fortress. The only way she could have gotten to him was by helicopter that day.

He had just started to turn away toward the elevators to start his ascent when the man with Jill lifted her out of the chair. He shook her, she headbutted him so hard that Leon could hear it even through the silence, and he staggered back. He threw her at the table, Jill hit and rolled across it to land beautifully on her feet on the other side, and the man kicked her in the stomach for it. She stumbled back and he back handed her, tossing her across the table.

Quietly, Leon warned, "...don't do it."

Like it mattered what he said because the man held Jill down on the table and grabbed for her pants. She reared up, shouting in rage. Leon laughed with such anger it should have burned as it left his lips as he growled, "...I don't fucking think so."

He hit the button on the console to bring up the panic protocols. Moving swiftly, he engaged all the locks in the building and hit the button to turn on the sprinklers in the room where Jill was located. The man was grabbing for his zipper when he got hit with a downpour of water. He shouted, Jill reared up and head butted him from behind, and he staggered again as she over rotated, slung her leg in a beautiful round house kick and knocked him clean into the wall to hit and slide down.

As he struggled to get to his feet, she kicked him in the face, let him fall, and stomped on his countenance unit it was hamburger and blood. Nodding, Leon told her softly, "Good girl. Now get out outta there."

He disengaged the locks on the series of rooms behind Jill and the elevator and moved toward them himself. On the elevator, he instructed, "Level 95." And to his surprise, the goddamn elevator answered, "With pleasure, Mr. Kennedy."

He froze, the elevators whooshed shut, and the ascent took him upward. As a few moments passed, the elevator spoke again, "We've been expecting you, Leon."

Leon laughed, sharply, shaking his head, "Bitch."

The elevator spoke again in that cheery British accent, "It's good to see you too, Leon. I wouldn't bother with going after Ms. Valentine, she's no longer where you saw her. It would be in your best interest to go home, get your son, and change your mind about revenge."

He said nothing. He just kept shaking his head with a wry expression on his face. The elevator came to a halt on the 69th floor. Lips pursed, he lamented, "...really?"

The elevator doors opened and the voice told him, "Your favorite position after all. You always were a slave to the pussy, Leon. If this is how you want it, come and get it."

He stepped off and found cover just as the door to elevator vestibule was thrown open and men poured through. A firefight ensued, flashing lights and flying bullets transforming the small space into a fireworks display of death. The vest over his chest took two bullets before he finished off the last of the attackers with a clean shot to the hollow of his throat. Blood sprayed, he flailed and fell back, and Leon waited.

Time turned into the smallest sounds - the final gasp of the dying, the elevator music that filtered through the smoke, and the crunch again of those boots as Leon emerged from behind the pillar he'd used as cover. As if she could hear him, he remarked, "Your men are babies with guns, Ada. Get better help."

She must have known he was coming to prepare like she did.

He hit the stars and the next floor found him surrounded by zombies. They lumbered and moaned, they lingered and groaned, they staggered and honed in on his smell the moment he was clear of the stairwell. Leon scoffed, shook his head, and prepped the holster on his thigh for a quick reload. He rolled his shoulders and just started shooting.

* * *

The cold made Jill's face pink where she was bound -a chair on the balcony of a high rise waiting for a miracle. Some grace or luck had saved her from being raped in that room below, but the next moment had found her dragged over the shoulder a huge man to the roof to await her execution. She shivered, wearing only the white t-shirt they'd found her in and the old jeans over her bare feet. Wherever she was, it felt familiar.

To her surprise, it was Ada Wong who emerged from the beautiful fountain blessed walk in front of her. A long catwalk separated them. Jill sat in the middle of a garden and a gazebo of sorts, feeling the wind and watching the stars. Clearly, it was Ada's happy place.

He voice carried as the woman in red crossed toward her. "You harpy...you think he'll trade our son for me!? You've never, ever known him."

Ada wore a beautiful red duster around her slim body. The scarf she accented with the coat was as white and pure as the first snow fall. She kept the gun in her black leather gloved hands on the woman in the chair as if she were a threat somehow. "You think you do?" Ada clucked her tongue, "Jill, darling, don't you get it? You didn't win him. He didn't abandon me for you. You were easy...emotionally anyway. You offered him the one thing I couldn't - love."

Ada shrugged, shifting closer to her, "I might have been capable of it, once, before the world reminded me that there's nothing worth fighting for but the power to stand alone. Love is an illusion, a sleight of hand created by the brain to give a person a reason to hang on, push forward, and fight back. It's false feelings...just nerve endings in the brain firing to make the body it's bitch. Love ends, Jill, the way it begins - a lie."

Jill laughed, shivering in the cold, "You think taking our son will do what? Give you power over him again?"

Jill tilted her head and answered her own question, "No...nope. You plan to kill him after it's done. You've already got his replacement anyway...where is he? Oh, great bringer of truth..where's your _lie_?"

From the shadows to her right, the answer emerged onto the balcony. Admittedly, it looked just like him. Fake Leon was just as handsome, just as smooth when he walked, and just as easy to peg for the real one...unless you loved the real one. Then? It was easy to see the lie of it.

She mused, "That's the thing about you, Ada. You're brilliant. You've been running this game to gain control of the White House and get yourself into the highest levels of American Intelligence...you're wily and wise and quick and deadly.."

Ada bristled with pride until Jill added, "...and an idiot."

When Ada glared, Jill laughed, "If you'd ever bothered to figure it out, love isn't just something that controls us...it's something that sets us free. It lets us be who we are, exactly who we are, with the one other person in the world that loves us anyway. You can slap his face on a thousand fakes, and it will never be him. Anyone who knows him, will see right through it."

Ada gave her a narrow look as Jill went on, "It was never easy for us..._ever..._but the thing about Leon isn't weakness...it's _strength. _He absolutely will not stop until you are dead. He is loyal and determined and kind...and _good. _He's good - under that layer of ugliness you've filmed him with all these years, he's a good man. Meeting him...I wanted to hate him. I did, but not because of who he was, because of what he made me feel. He's so much more than you ever gave him credit for."

Ada gave her lifted brows, "You think I can't sell my Leon to the world? No one cares about softness or light or love, Jill. Not at the core of it. The world we play in, it's ugly and dark, it's bloody and raw. It takes softness and rips it away until it's just regret and rot beneath. You know that better than anyone...how can you really think his softness is strength? It's what put you here. It's why Redfield is dead. It's why your son is in danger...because Leon Kennedy will always be weak. He will always have a stopping point. He'll always have something that holds him back from pushing that last distance to really change the world. He's governed by rules, and the world doesn't work on rules. It works on power. He could have had it, if he'd just stopped fighting me."

Jill's bark of laughter was loud in the chilly air, "Yeah...you don't know him at all. He will _never _stop fighting. It's all he knows how to do. If you put me in the ground, if you tear me apart one piece at a time, it won't stop him. It will give him even more reason to keep on fighting. It's what he does..no..._it's who he is!"_

Jill jerked her head at the man wearing his face and taunted, "You think you can stuff a skin suit with what makes him Leon? _You can't clone that!" _Her shout echoed, and reminded her of Leon's when it thundered from him, "He's one of a kind, you stupid bitch, and that is why he was _never _yours."

Ada's gun went off and it echoed over the empty skyline. Jill jerked in the seat as the pain hit her full blast and her shoulder wept copiously down the white of her shirt. Her teeth gritted against it as Ada warned her, oh so softly, "...shut up, you fucking fool. You were never more than a puppet, a toy, a play thing without purpose...first to Wesker, than again to Redfield, and now to Leon. You're a whore, Jill, who follows the lead of any wagging dick that pretends to care for you. Wesker used you, he sold you, he turned you into a shell to be stuffed with whatever powerful man he needed on his side. You came back a shadow...no...you came back _a joke. _Do you think it was luck that Redfield found you? Do you think it was anything but another game?"

They glared at each other as Jill's blood smelled hot and coppery in the moonlight. Finally, Ada shouted, "_I HANDED YOU TO HIM!"_

Jill winced as the spy laughed angrily, "I handed you to that fool to love. I knew he would! He's always had a soft spot for the underdog. He's a champion of the weak! He _wants _to fix people! And he did. He fixed you."

Ada laughed tauntingly, "He fixed you so much you bore his child. He's good right? In bed? He's good. He really cares about pleasing you. He really wants to show you what you mean. Did he promise you more children?"

Jill's jaw flexed as Ada laughed again, "Yeah he did. He offer you love? Marriage?"

When Jill said nothing, Ada's brows flew up in pleasure, "No? No marriage. Of course not. When he's done with you, he'll toss you back into the garbage where you belong. Killing you now, I'm doing him a favor. Like it or not, Jill, we both know a man like that is _wasted _on a used up cum dump like you."

The rage rolled in Jill's guts until she felt like she might implode as Ada finished, "Maybe I'll finish him off and marry the fake one. We'll raise your son together. Every night, I'll fuck him and think of you - rotting in the ground like you deserve. And when your son is grown...maybe I'll start fucking him too."

Jill pushed off the ground and charged her, chair and all, as she shouted her battle cry to the night. Ada laughed as Leon's clone grabbed the chair and shoved Jill back down. When she struggled, he hit her. He slapped her so hard her ear rang.

Admittedly, she _knew _it wasn't Leon. She knew that. But her heart...her _heart..._it broke a little when he lifted his hand on her. She knew, in her fucking bones, that Leon would never hit her.

But her heart...it took that slap from Leon's fake hand and broke.

Ada considered and said, "...Leon?"

The clone turned to her as she looked at Jill, felt her mouth turn up into a leer of pleasure, and instructed, "...keep on hitting her until I say stop."

He turned toward her, Jill braced for it, and she told Ada, "You think I can't take torture? You don't know me at all."

"Oh, no, honey. I think you can't take Leon hurting you. So let's see how tough you really are. Hit her, Leon, _now._"

Into the silent night, the sound of Leon striking Jill seemed horribly loud.

* * *

Leon tossed aside the smoking vest onto the bloody floor. The acidic spray of the bug he'd murdered rendered the damn thing useless, but it didn't matter. He was at the top of the stairs anyway.

She'd gave it her best shot, he mused as he kicked open the stairwell door and emerged onto the 96th floor. She threw everything she had at him. He was down to one bullet from the eleven clips he'd strapped to himself and he'd given up his M-16 eight floors ago after he'd finished off a tyrant in a top hat - clearly Ada's homage to the once terrifying Mr. X that had chased both he and Claire around the RPD.

He'd dusted a floor full of fat bellied bugs with an incendiary grenade and spent twenty minutes in a hand to hand throw down with a chainsaw man. Ada was giving him a run down on the first layers of his life. He faced the quandary of all the things he'd put in the ground and knew, without question, that she was showing him how much she knew. She'd followed him, that was clear, and was aware of things he thought no one was privy too but him.

He'd been alone in Cuba when he'd faced that drug cartel peddling BOWS and drugs out of their mansion. He'd had the report classified, and yet she threw enough cartel members in crappy suits turned into zombies after him that he knew she'd broken the seal to find out about his time there. She knew about the things he'd done. She knew it all.

She was already tits deep in whatever game she was almost done playing.

Bloody, filthy, dressed in nothing more than his black moisture wicking shirt and matching fatigues, Leon walked through the long beautiful loft where Ada likely lived and ignored everything. He didn't care about her expensive rugs or her one of a kind art. He didn't have any interest in the bed she slept in with its blood red duvet or the glitter of wine glasses in a kitchen that seemed untouched.

He knew, somehow, she'd be waiting on the balcony.

It was so her. Dramatic, drawn out, and over the top was like breathing to Ada. She liked the fun of a full show.

He emerged onto the balcony to the trickle of a pretty fountain lit by fairy white lights and pretty waterfalls. A beautiful woman, likely an image of Ada, offered the water from her uplifted hands as it cascaded down her perfect breasts and pooled around her feet. Leon ignored it as he walked right by and kept going.

He heard the sounds of flesh striking flesh as he walked. Each footfall brought up another kind of emotion that left him almost dizzy with the need to destroy. Into the cold crush of a windy night, he demanded, "...take your fucking hands off of her."

While he crossed the catwalk, Ada finally instructed, "...that's enough."

And it was his face that turned toward him.

It was his face and his hands and his hair. It was him, but it would never be him. He looked at Jill slumped in the chair behind his clone. She wasn't moving. What he could see, showed her face splashed in blood.

Voice cold, and layered in fear, he called, "Jill?"

She moaned softly and shivered. So she was alive. He wasn't sure how bad it was, but there wasn't time to think of that. His clone was coming toward him. Ada laughed, delighted, "Wake up, Jill! We're about to see something spectacular!"

Leon felt his lip curl up into a sneer as he holstered his Magnum. The last bullet was for Ada. He didn't need it to get rid of himself.

He lifted his hand and beckoned himself into battle.

Jill lifted her head at the first sounds of combat. She spit blood on the ground from her swollen mouth as she took in the scene: one in a classy suit, one in a set of bloody fatigues - both painfully gorgeous. She focused on the one that mattered.

At this moment, it was easy to tell the difference. The clone was Leon before he'd become a hunter chasing a spy. He was beautiful, no lie there, but rangy and lithe in that way his real version had been when she'd met him. The man he'd been modeled after wasn't even close to the Leon Kennedy whose hair she'd lopped off in a rage filled attempt to escape.

Bigger, faster, smoother and sharper, Leon had spent all the time he'd been searching making himself a machine. He ducked, he deflected, he delivered a blow to the kidneys here, and another to chest. He almost danced circles around his clone, making Jill laugh a little and taunt, "See? One of a kind."

Ada mused, "...yes. He's beautiful. Been training, Leon?"

And the real one called, "Always, you bitch, and I've got some tricks up my sleeve."

Ada, amused, cooed, "And those tricks aren't for kids. You can stop, right now, and we can push this bitch off the roof together. How does that sound? You could be mine, darling, and we can take on our enemies together."

Leon's laughter was bright and happy, "...we'll see which bitch gets kicked off this roof tonight, Ada. It's been a _long _time coming."

And so the two women who'd once fought over him, watched him fight himself. It was, without a doubt, the most poetic moment of his life. He punctuated it by taunting himself, "...I didn't know I was so fucking ugly...Jill might have been right about the hair."

The clone was still Leon, in one hand, so he got a few shots in himself. He punched the real one in the stomach and grabbed the back of his neck to sling him off the catwalk. Leon tumbled into the water as Ada shouted, "You fool! Even if you stop him and stop me, do you think I'm not set up for that eventuality?! You think I'm not prepared to put others in my place and keep going?!"

He shouted back while he ducked and spun, kicked and grunted, "You mean Sherawat?! Don't you worry, princess, I'm gonna find that bitch too. You can bet on that."

Leon, soaked, tackled his doppelganger and sent them both off the other side again. Water sprayed as they rose up, throwing fists and feet and fighting like only two Leon's could. The real one pulled a Chris Redfield and powerhouse punched his clone so hard that it sent the other man into the water and under in a swirl of blood.

Ada shook her head, sighing, "You think it matters? I have more clones, Leon. Dozens."

There was a wet crunch of a boot to a skull. Jill winced as the water turned red around Leon's hips. He vaulted onto the catwalk as Ada tried again, "I need your son to bargain for the power to break free. Don't you get it? I need to be _free, _Leon! If I finally do this...I don't have to answer to anyone ever again."

He came toward her and the gun she wielded shifted. She commanded, softly, "Stop. Right there. Stop."

She wasn't aiming at him. She was aiming at Jill.

Leon flashed his teeth as Ada commanded, "Take the Magnum and drop it. Kick it over the ground toward me...now please."

He did. He tugged it free and kicked it toward her as he finally spoke, "You think this ends with you on top, Ada? Drop the fucking weapon and maybe I'll let you live. Surrender and I'll take you into custody and let you stand trial for everything you done. Rotting in a cell for the rest of your life is almost as good as killing you."

The gun spun and slowed an inch from Jill's left foot. She stared so hard at Leon that she thought her eyes might bug out. Clever fucking bastard, he knew what he was doing.

Ada laughed, shaking her head, "You fool. Don't you get it? You've left your son exposed the same as you left Jill exposed. Even now, I have a team in place to take him. You just overplayed your hand, Leon. I _always _have five back up plans in place. You think I was waiting here on accident? I knew you'd come after her. I knew you'd take the time to face me. I knew...while you were chasing me, I'd be able to slip right in and take your son."

The gun by her foot was cold. Jill glanced up at Leon and he arched a brow. He didn't look away from Ada, but somehow she knew what he wanted anyway.

Ada cocked the hammer on the gun and finished, "...I had such plans for you. It's a shame that underneath that genius you're known for...beats the heart of a love struck idiot."

He tilted his head, "Does it? Jill?"

Quietly, Jill told Ada, "The easiest way to get you to come out of hiding was to give you an opportunity to take someone for trade."

Ada froze. She blinked twice and then she accused, "...you made yourself bait to locate me? Why would you be so stupid...I could have had you raped or killed at any time. Who risks themselves like that?"

It was Leon who answered, "Someone who is willing to risk everything for what they love."

Ada looked perplexed, "...love. Don't you get it? Love isn't worth dying for, Leon. It's not worth risking anything. Love doesn't last. How could it? It's the biggest lie we tell ourselves from birth to death. You risked the mother of your child...for what?"

And Jill told her, "...for our son. We knew the risk. We both did. We risked it all together."

Ada shook her head. She lifted the gun on Jill's temple and told them, "...and I'm going to win anyway. Was it worth it? After everything?"

For an answer, Jill headbutted Ada in the side, surprising her. When she staggered, Jill kicked the gun by her foot. It spun out, Ada lifted her weapon on Jill again, and the heavy sound of the Magnum dropping the hammer had her freezing.

She turned and gave Jill her back. She lifted the gun up and told him, "...I surrender. Bring me in."

The wind whipped her hair around in black tendrils. Her jacket trembled. She held his gaze, unflinching, unworried, unmoved. "It's what you wanted, right? Bring me in. How else will you know what my game is here? You need me. We both know you aren't the guy who pulls the trigger, Leon. You're a her-"

The Magnum went off, loud and echoing. Jill jerked as blood splattered all over her face and torso. She made a small sound of horror, thinking that somehow, someone had shot her. Ada landed atop her in the next moment, thrown backward and off her feet by the clean shot to the face.

They went back, Jill landing with a grunt on her bound hands, the chair forcing Ada's body to curl atop her. She was face to face with the exploded left eye and what was left of the ruin of a beautiful face - the Magnum had torn apart her skull from the top of her nose to the top of her head. It was grotesque.

It was somehow satisfying.

Jill stared at the body until Leon kicked it off her. He grabbed her by the front of her bloody shirt and jerked the chair upright. He said nothing as he circled around behind her. Trembling a little, Jill whispered, "She's dead."

His voice grumbled, "Yeah."

"She's dead."

"I know."

He unbound her hands and she gripped a handful of his filthy black shirt, "...I had to."

Leon's face settled into lines of repressed rage. "...don't start, Jill. Not now."

Jill denied that and hung on. She was slathered in Ada Wong's blood. She knew it was symbolic. She knew it was the end of a battle he'd been fighting all his life it seemed. She knew, and he knew, that they'd _never _agreed on her kidnapping in exchange for Ada revealing herself.

She'd gone behind his back and risked herself. Just like she'd done cold cocking him in the kitchen at her vineyard.

She told him, softly, "I had to. I bounced a signal off a known mole inside the BSAA. I knew they'd feed it to Ada. I knew it would satisfy her to the point she'd come out to get me. I sent you away knowing she'd take me. I did that...because if it failed and I ended up dead, at least it wasn't you."

He'd never in his life wanted to hit her until now. His hand grabbed her throat and he dragged her up to her feet while they stood facing each other in the brutal wind. She let him, watching the muscles in his arm bunch with the effort to resist squeezing. Desperately, Jill urged, "It's ok. It is. Do it. If you need to...if it helps...do it. I watched you descend into a hole so dark that there was no escape. I watched you erase yourself chasing her. I knew...we both know...Kit was better off with you than me. So I took a chance, knowing that if it ended badly...at least he was with the better parent."

Softly, through his teeth, he ground out, "...finish it..say it...just say it..."

Jill gave him what he asked for and confessed, "...I'm sorry."

His hand curled and pushed her away. She stumbled and nearly tripped on the body of Ada Wong. They held gazes and if he could have, she knew he'd have incinerated her right on the spot. She knew what he'd say before he did.

"..._fuck _your sorry, Jill. It wasn't just your life you were playing with."

"...I knew you'd find me. I had faith in you. You wanted her gone...it was a risk worth taking."

He shook his head and then? His shouting. She'd always be in awe of it. "_It wasn't your risk to take! Do you think this is some kind of game?_!"

Jill whispered, "...I played the odds. I bet on you. I was _right."_

Leon backed up, laughing ironically and angrily, shaking his head, "You used love like a weapon...just like she did. You used _me _like one. It might be her body at your feet, but she's not the only thing that died on this rooftop."

He turned away and walked past the water turned red with death. His clone, his past, his parasite...they all lay dead around him - a graveyard of what he might have been. He'd restarted her heart 96 floors up once, and now he obliterated it as he told her over his shoulder, "...I'm done playing games."

Jill stood in the cold staring at Ada's blood spreading around her shoes, feeling it drip down her skin. She was bathed in it, soaked in it, drowning in it. Ada Wong was dead...and it had only cost her everything to end it.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the glass on the wall of Ada's beautiful house of horrors.

Jill stared at herself and let the truth sink in - _she _was now the bitch in red.


	39. No Hope: Part 4: Chap 1

**A/N: **_Wasn't satisfied with the ending, so I had to rework it. Let's see what happens now, shall we?_

* * *

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Four:**

**-Post Mortem-**

* * *

**Chapter One: Cryptonite**

* * *

**Spring 2017**

* * *

When she got back to the cottage, everything was beautifully put back together from her fight with her captors. Her things, Kit's things, Hope's things all was as it had been for the year since her son had come into the world to lighten her life. She walked back to the bedroom and her pulse sped up with each step.

Everywhere she looked, anything of his father was missing. Like he'd never been there, as if he'd never existed, as if she hadn't held him less than ten days ago and sworn to love him the rest of her life. Gone.

He was gone.

She set Kit down in his room with his toys. He went about playing like the world wasn't fractured. He went on without knowing that nothing in this house would ever be right again.

Her hand opened the closet to find it empty. As if he'd never been there, like he'd never loved her and rolled her beneath him to make her his. Gone.

Jill's eyes drifted shut to let the pain of it absorb and leave her breathless.

She'd known, the moment she'd watched him sleep after he'd asked her to raise a family with him, she'd known she'd risk everything for him. She'd gone out the window once and died to spare the man she'd loved. She risked herself again for the only who'd ever really loved _her_. Love was a stupid word for what existed with Leon. It was insipid and sappy and plain. He was...a standing ovation after years of waiting. He was that guy who turned heads and made girls flock around him in some way that was nearly comic.

Everyone who saw him, always wanted to know him. Everyone called him things - a genius, a legacy, a legend, a weapon. He was "amazing" and a "revelation". He was "born to do this". He was a "hero." He was just a man to her. He'd always been just a man, and that had somehow been worth so much more.

He was more than she'd ever deserved. She'd known it. She'd felt it. The first time he'd touched her, she'd known it. He was never meant to really be hers. She'd known that too. She'd felt it. She'd reminded herself every day.

She'd hated him. She'd wanted him gone. She'd slept on the floor at his feet like a dog. Nothing made sense when he wasn't around. He drank too much and he was broody and he often spent long hours with a guitar like it was a woman. He was arrogant and had a terrible, corny sense of humor. He was sometimes sarcastic and sometimes stupidly charming...and people called him all kinds of things.

Jill? She just called him..."...mine."

Her hands covered her face. He was gone. He'd left her. She deserved it. She did. She'd pushed him too far, too much, and for the last time. She was as reliable as a compass in a whirlwind. She had no direction. She'd failed him. She'd run, she'd blamed, she'd pushed and shoved and kicked and cut him. She'd betrayed him for the last time, it seemed. Risking herself with Kit in play was the last straw. He was the man who never backed down...and apparently, he was a man who knew when to walk away.

Jill turned from the closet breathing heavy.

He'd saved her life. He'd brought her back from the edge of one rooftop and left her atop another. He'd given her hope, and something to live for, and a purpose in a world that had once been nothing but bleak desolation.

And he'd left her with nothing but his memory.

She turned and froze. On the bed, laying there like an offering, the first t-shirt of his he'd stuffed on her body to cover her up after he'd forced her to shower. She'd worn it the night she'd given in to her want of him. He'd worn it the night he'd first turned her over his knee to touch her how they both wanted. She'd worn it the day he'd told her he loved her. _He'd_ worn it the day she'd found him to share her pregnancy.

It was his...it was _theirs._

It was all she had left of him.

Her hands snatched it up and pressed it against her face. She hunched over, curling forward until her body contorted into a miserable heap. Jill took the first breath of what would be the most painful break down in the world, and Kit giggled loudly in his room.

Her heart stopped at the sound. She felt the painful loss of Leon hit the joy of her son and instead of falling apart...instead of falling to pieces and putting his shirt on a pillow to hold...she tossed it back on the bed and left the empty bedroom behind.

She'd lost him and saved her son. She'd done that. She'd exposed herself to give Leon the chance to finish his bloody quest for revenge. She'd lost him, but she'd given him his life back too.

He was free.

It was the only thing left she could could offer him.

She started to sink to the floor and grieve and the sounds from the other room drew her attention.

Kit giggled again and the low gruff sound of the accompaning voice made her freeze.

He'd left _her...but he was still **here.**_

Jill rose and went out into the living room. He was there, clutching his son and making the boy giggle. She waited, silent as a tomb, and he simply said, "...I told you I wouldn't leave you...but I can't be with you."

She felt herself nod. She felt her mouth open and whisper, "...I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes. He shook his head. He took the baby and went to sit on the front porch. Into the silence that remained, Jill whispered back to herself, ".._fuck _your sorry, Jill."

He was gone, but he was still there.

He was gone, but he was still _there._

She slid down the wall in the hallway and put her face in her hands. She breathed, but she didn't cry. She didn't cry...she just mourned him.

* * *

**Summer 2017**

* * *

Silence became a staple in that house where a couple of liars lived.

It was a modest little three bedroom surrounded by others of a similar cookie-cutter variety. It was clapboard yellow with green shutters and a roof that always looked vaguely smokey gray over the reddish shingles. The bad news about Falls Church is that it was expensive like any good neighborhood surrounding DC.

Jill stuck to her guns as she'd promised Adam and gone to work at the DSO part-time while she raised Kit, but the cost was weighing heavy on her. He knew she was struggling financially even with him offering to help. She had _refused _the judge's suggestion of a child support when they'd gone to work out custody of Kit. Shocked, Leon had urged, "Take the money, Jill. It's for our son. It's nothing to me."

She'd given him a filthy look and snapped, "It's _everything _to me, Kennedy. I don't want your fucking money."

He was _always _Kennedy when she was mad at him.

The only time she spoke was to call him Kennedy and remind him she was convinced she'd done the right thing. She told him once, "...you'll come around...you'll see."

He was closer to shaking her until he shouted the truth in her face. The truth? What was it? It was this - she had no value in herself. She thought there was nothing wrong with undermining him to risk herself. She simply believed she was right.

She was so wrong he wanted to scream sometimes.

Instead? Silence and filthy looks and quiet. So much quiet. It was painful.

He arrived on his doorstep one afternoon to find a man holding his son. He checked the impulse to tug the gun from his shoulder holster and kill him where he stood. Odds were, it was someone there about the nanny position Jill and he had discussed.

Naturally, she'd choose a man. He wondered if she did it to fuck with him.

Kit shouted when he saw him, calling, "Dada! Dada!"

The man remarked, "...you Leon?"

Chewing his sarcasm and nearly choking on it, he simply couldn't stop it as Leon quipped, "Depends on who's asking."

The man wasn't impressed. He gave Leon a long-suffering look and returned, "I'm Jonah."

Leon walked toward him, hands itching to snatch his son and punch the guy in the face, "...and?"

"Oh, right," Jonah let Kit leap from one set of arms to the other. He sandwiched Leon's face in his hands to kiss him noisily and made his father smile. "I'm the new nanny. She said ya'll needed someone while you guys were working."

Leon arched his brows, "She hire you on the spot?"

Looking a little concerned, Jonah answered, "U-uh um ...yes? Is that...was she not supposed to?"

They stared at each other until Jonah cleared his throat and offered, "...aaaand she didn't tell you anything about it. Great. I used to work at the DSO. Um... I'm a go-"

The photographic memory kicked in tossed up the whole kid's file as Leon answered, "Gopher - third-floor accounting. You were hired to replace Sheldon Stuart when he left to join the FBI."

Leon gave the guy a narrow look, "How'd you find Jill all the way up on the tenth floor?"

Jonah shrugged, "...alright, she mentioned you were nosy, so in the interest of saving time here -We met in the cafeteria and got to talking. She mentioned she was looking for a nanny. I was looking for a career change so..."

"She home?"

Jonah arched his brows, "Yep. Outback working in her garden.."

Leon gave him a cool expression, "Hmm. You like her garden?"

"..eh...it's ok." The kid looked ready to piss himself. He couldn't blame him. Leon wasn't radiating charm. He was pissed.

It might have been amusing if it wasn't a man holding _his _son. Leon rolled his eyes and passed by the other man, shoulder bumping him as he went. Jonah yipped and called, "Jill?"

Her voice was soft, "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna head out for a bit...your _ex _is home."

Ex. Leon looked at Kit and scoffed, "Pfft. Nanny my _ass."_

He set Kit up in his room with a movie and some soft blocks to throw around and destroy before he emerged into the yard to find Jill up to her wrists in the dirt. He leaned on the jam and mused, "...roses look good, kid. I don't like some strange fucker caring for my son, Jill. You hire a man to piss me off?"

"I told you we need a nanny."

"...I gave you four suitable references."

She gave him the filthiest look he'd ever seen. "Those were all silicone and stupidity. Not nannies."

"...so? Something pretty to look at while she's working. No shame in that. Fire that prick and hire one of the women. You hear me? I don't want men in my house."

"...what did you say?"

He snapped, "I said I don't want men in my house. Hire a woman or stay home with him yourself. That's it. That's what's happening here."

Why didn't she snap back? Why did she just crouch there looking so docile? He hated this. He hated all of it. He hated her quiet, servile, inspid behavior. He hated the silence and the solitude and the emptiness. He hated the sadness that sucked the world into a quagmire of crap when they were together. He was tired of it. He wanted her to just...what? Apologize?

No. He wanted her to grovel for forgiveness. That's what he wanted. He wanted that and it made him the biggest dick around. So, he barked, "A woman. You hear me? I see a man touching my son again, I'll feed him his teeth. Deal with your insecurities about working with a woman half your age, and get over it. I don't care if she's young and beautiful."

He turned to go inside and she just...came alive.

Jill, without looking, tossed a handful of dirt at him. It struck the leather of his jacket and tumbled down. Mouth pursed in amusement, he taunted, "...that it? That's passive-aggressive, Jill. You can do better."

"She's young and beautiful...and what am I?"

He should shut up. He should. It was stupid to provoke her...and yet..."...a mother. You need to act like one. You can't let strange men in here, you hear me? I don't care where you met them. Hire one of the women I recommended."

They glared at each toher until she snapped, "...you sleep with them? That how you know they're all fucking maternal? Hmm? You want me to hire one of your lovers?"

Oh.

He blinked. He didn't smile, but man oh man he wanted to. Jealous. That's what she was. He gave her a dirty look, "Pretty sure that's mud around the boots, kid, and not your business. Who cares if I have? It's irrelevant. They can do the job. So hire one. End of discussion."

"...hire one of your ex-lovers? That's what you're saying here?"

She rose with a bucket full of mud and worms. His eyes narrowed as he warned, "This is Hugo Boss, Jill. Don't be a child here."

She threw the mud all over him.

Honestly, he should have seen it coming. She'd been nice for far too long. She was bound to break eventually as she shouted, "You stupid son of a bitch! You think you can ask me to hire some woman you've been fucking to raise my son!? How _dare _you! You come in here and try to strong-arm the nanny!? Try to tell me what to do? You are no longer in charge of me, Kennedy, and you haven't been in a _long _time!"

As he wiped mud from his face, he drolled, "He's my son. All bets are off."

Jill paused, eyes widening, "What did you say?"

Leon scraped the mud out of his eyes and spat, "He's _my _son! Mine! I can boss anybody I damn well want when it comes to him..." He should have stopped right there. Instead, "And you're a mother now! You don't have the luxury of living with strange men anymore. If you want sex, buy a toy and be done with it."

"...buy a toy?" Her voice was so quiet. He should have known it was the calm before the storm.

"Yeah. That's what ladies do. They buy a toy and use it and close their legs to strange men. You're a lady. Act like one." He was riling her up. He knew it. Why? Because he was tired of living like a monk. He missed her. He missed that fire that made her the only thing in the world he craved like a drug. He missed her anger. He missed the girl who'd once tried to kick his ass before she'd fucked him nearly blind.

He _missed _her.

Jill's teeth flashed in a savage smile, "Oh?"

"Yeah. You're damn right. Ladies don't let men in their houses to hold their kids. They buy toys and keep their legs shut. If you need it that badly, I'm here. I can toss you a quickie to help you out." Leon spit mud on the ground and grunted, "You spiteful witch. This make you feel better?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, it did...however-" He couldn't duck in time as she hit him square in the face with the garden hose. The spray of water from the serpentine monster blew the mud right off his kisser and had him stumbling into the wall while she shouted, "You treat me like some fucking bro for months and suddenly I'm supposed to what!? Roll over and spread my legs in gratitude?"

Leon grinned back at her through the running mud on him, "It wouldn't be the first time."

That's it. That was all it took.

She threw down the hose, shouted like a warrior, and raced at him. He braced, waited, and leaped over the leg she threw as she spun to the ground. She was out of the business, but she wasn't out of practice. She moved like a ninja, spinning and shifting and driving him back across the cool spring grass. He caught her leg and spun her away, ducked an elbow, and tucked her into a toss that she rolled through.

He had to admit, he'd missed sparring with her.

As she rebounded off the fence and launched herself at him, he shouted, "Get real, Jill, you couldn't take me then...you sure as hell can't take me now that you've gained weight."

Oh. He was _finished._

She tackled him and made him laugh. He caught her around the middle with his left arm and brought his right down in a hard slap on her ass as an insult. Jill reared up and bit him. He should have seen it coming.

She bit him right in the side. The leather coat got the brunt of it and he laughed, "Fail."

But it wasn't. She ripped her teeth back and tore his fucking coat.

Leon roared, "BITCH!"

She laughed and he threw her away to stagger against the fence. The damage to his jacket made him so angry. It was ridiculous really, a strange reason to get upset, but she knew how he felt about his coats.

So he grabbed a handful of her shirt while she smacked at him and jerked. She went up and over his shoulder, shouting, and he carried her into the house. She tried to take a bite out of his ass through his jeans and Leon dropped her right into the bathtub in her bathroom. She got a mouthful of shower as he jerked the lever and turned it on. It stole her shout as she slapped at his hands.

Grunting as she smacked his chest, he warned, "You want Kit to hear you wailing like a banshee?"

Jill spat, "I _hate _you."

Oh, it felt good to hear that for some reason. He lifted her up by that soaked shirt and shoved her against the wall, snapping, "Ditto, kiddo. I hate you right back."

Jill spit hair and water out of her face, jeering, "Me!? _Me!? _I've done everything you asked! I moved my life for you! I didn't say a word! I've been gentle and kind and thoughtful! You arrogant jackass, you've treated me like shit! What right do you have to hate me!?"

He didn't shout like she'd thought he would. He put their noses together and hissed, "You broke my fucking heart."

The anger leeched out of her and left only regret behind as he pleaded, "I know...I'm _sorry."_

She lifted her hands palm out and empty, "What can I say here, Leon? What will make it better? I had to do it. I had to. You couldn't find her! She would have taken our son! I protected you both!"

Their gazes clashed until he ground out, "Goddamnit...I told you once to never take me out of play like that again. You underestimate me, Jill, you always have."

"...do I?" She asked sadly, "Do I? You let her live. She was alive because you _always _let her live. I couldn't trust that you'd find her before she found my son. You were killing yourself trying. I couldn't watch you wither away to nothing trying to avenge Chris. He wouldn't have wanted that either. I _love _you...I made a choice to jump out that window for you...It was _my _choice. I wanted you alive and safe...even if it cost me _you._"

The truth of it made them both angry.

I love you, she'd said, not loved. I love you. The syntax of that single statement felt like hope in a way he couldn't explain.

He spit through his teeth, voice snapping, "You should have _talked _to me. We could have come up with a plan together. Instead? You went behind my back and risked everything. I might have been the dumb one once, Jill, but you've always been the fool. You have never, ever _trusted _me."

"...you should ask yourself if you've ever done the same, Leon. Ask yourself...if you've ever trusted _me."_

The heavy silence was filled with rushing water around her feet. They glared until he broke first.

"...only one of us served under a criminal mastermind for years, Jill. I couldn't trust you, not completely..because I wasn't sure how much of you was a lie, and how much of you was what I _wanted _to see."

Damn. He watched it arrow into her and hurt. She shut down the pain with anger. Her face flashed red with it as she spit at him, "...I deserve better than that and you _know _it."

"Do I? You just kept on going behind my back, honey. I don't see alot of fucking trust there."

He let go of her shirt and started to back off and she grabbed his leather coat and jerked him into the shower. She slammed the door shut and drilled a finger into his chest as the water beat on them to drown out their shouting.

"It takes one to know one, you arrogant bastard. You stand there all high and mighty...you abandoned me in pursuit of that bitch. You chose her at every goddamn turn. You made it clear what mattered to you by chasing her."

Angry, he grabbed her arms and lifted her to her tiptoes to shake her, "I_ WAS TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!"_

There it was, Jill thought wildly, the shouting. It made her heart hammer as she snapped, "What makes you right and me wrong?! Huh?! YOU RISKED YOURSELF TO FIND HER! You made that choice! Did you think of your son?! Did you think of what happened to him if he lost you!? I did! I knew if it was a choice between you or me, his life would be so much better with you! You never asked me what I needed or wanted! You never thought of me once! You get to be the hero, is that it? And I have to sit at home and wait for you to rescue me!? I risked everything, just like you did, the difference is...I didn't ask you first...and you just can't swallow the pride and admit it."

They glared at each other and she finished, "Yeah. It's all over you. You would have risked everything after Kit was born to kill her...I just beat you to it."

Part of her thrilled at the anger here - it was _real. _She'd been faking for so long it was nearly painful. She'd given it her best shot to move on. She'd dated. She'd tried. Leon had rebuked her so badly she'd almost given up. He avoided her when he could. He made sure it was clear he didn't love her anymore. She'd wanted to teach him lesson.

She'd gone home with a man she was seeing. She'd taken off her clothes and let him do the same. She'd kissed him and he'd laid her down on the bed...and the panic set in. She'd curled up and away, scrambling, chest tight and terrified. She'd apologized profusely and run home.

To Leon.

Because home was Leon. She'd tried to move on. She'd tried so hard.

She couldn't. She couldn't let another man touch her. She was ruined. She was finished.

She wanted to know if it was all men...or just this one.

She'd ended up asleep on his floor. He'd carried her and laid her on the bed beside him. He'd laid with his back to her and Jill had shifted minutely until she could put her hand on his back. It was the first time she slept through the night in months.

Quietly, she taunted, "...you're just angry because you've spent years running around with no one to care if you live or die...and I risked my life to protect you. That's a man's job, isn't it, Kennedy? The man protects and the woman waits at home. I went against you and took your job. You walked away like a bitch betrayed. You acted like a girl whose feelings got hurt. Who's the girl here? You angry because I'm more of a man than you are? Or maybe you're angry because I cost you the only woman in the world you ever really loved."

The pain on him was palpable. He was so angry. So, so, so filled with some kind of rage and hurt that she couldn't place. And then? He showed her his pain.

His voice was thick and rumbling, "I never loved her. Not like that...not the way you want to imply. It was never love. She knew it, I knew it...and it wasn't love that sent her running, Jill. Don't you get it!? Ada went into hiding! She knew what you can't seem to figure out!"

"What's that!?"

"I'm the best in the goddamn business for a reason."

Her laugh was laced with ire, "You...arrogant son of a bitch. You believe that shit?"

"Oh, yeah. And you do too. We both know it. Somebody is gonna get me one day, Jill. It's inevitable. No matter how big and bad you are, there's always somebody better. But it wasn't Ada. It was never you. And the only reason Albert Wesker got as far as he did was because he managed to hide in the shadows like a fucking coward. Cut it up, call it what you want, roll your eyes and say it's arrogance, but it doesn't make it anything less than the truth - I'm the Executioner! I'm the Immortal! I'm the guy they whisper about in boardrooms and worry about in bad ones. I'm that fucking good. I knew, she knew, and you're the only one who didn't - she was NEVER going to win...unless she got her hands on my only fucking weakness."

"Which is what!?"

"...what else? YOU."

Her heart hurt in her chest. She felt like he'd donkey kicked her. Without a word in response, he killed her where she stood as he finished her off, "...you handed her my cryptonite when all you had to do was remember that I'm Superman...and believe in me."

With a shiver of regret, she whispered, "...I always believed in you...I just never believed in _us. _Why would I? Who cares if I die? I'm nothing. I was always nothing. You? You're _everything. _I will never stop trying to protect you! Do you hear me!? _The world needs Leon Kennedy! _Jill Valentine? She died a long time ago...and nobody would mourn her."

His voice snapped like a whip in the heat, "_I _would, you stupid woman. _I would."_

It worked like a charm. She watched the lightning strike of anger flushed his cheeks in the boiling heat.

He flipped her around against the wall. Her heart hammered as his hands jerked on her pants. They spilled down to her feet, her spine arched, and his hand came down on her ass with a sound like thunder. The water amplified it. Jill's high pitched keen made his blood boil.

Part of him knew it was really what they both wanted anyway.

He spanked her until her ass was rosy and ready. She whimpered and his hands guided her around against the wall to fuck her mouth with his. They sucked and swallowed, feasting a little.

The anger in the shower was hotter than the water. After a few pregnant moments of breathless kissing, he shoved her against the wall. Her hands came up and fisted in his hair. She barely opened her mouth before he took it again.

His hands sculpted her skull to tilt her face up for him. Hers tunneled in his hair to hold on. When he came up for air and groaned, "...whoa...just...hold on...Jesus wait a minute..."

It wasn't all men. It was just him. He was it. He was the only man in the world her body surrendered too. Love him or hate him or can't live without him...he was _it _for her. Somehow, he'd brought her back to life by simply never letting go.

All she could do was the same. So, she tried to make it easy on them both. Jill shook her head and demanded, "No waiting. Stop thinking. This is a pity fuck...right? Just give it to me."

That seemed fair.

He had offered after all.

He palmed her stinging ass and made her whimper.

He grabbed for his wallet and dug out a condom. As he rose, he missed the look of pain on her face as he ripped it open with his teeth and slipped it on. Her face was a mask of need as he turned back and lifted her around his front.

She grunted, hands grabbed for his face again to kiss him, and her body sank down to claim him. They groaned together, Jill's hips and thighs lifted and jerked, and he grabbed her ass to plow her against the wall. The condom felt like a dildo in her as he rode in and out of her needy body. She knew, of course, because a dildo was the only thing she'd been fucking since he'd left her.

She'd heard the stories, of course, about him not being nearly as discreet.

She knew, in a way, he was trying to prove she'd been nothing more than a fuck all along.

They both knew he wasn't a man who casually touched a woman and forgot about her. It was punishment - for him _and _her- for loving each other. Jill took the rest of it into her as he tried to kill her with each thrust. It was too rough, too hard, and too empty. She deserved it, all of it, for jumping out that window again for a man who'd never understand why. He would never understand that she would always, always, always choose love over life. It was because, under it all, she was a woman after all. He'd made sure he found what was left of one beneath the shattered shell.

If he never loved her again, she knew she'd bought him freedom by letting Ada find her. She knew that. She'd given him a life with his son, one he should have had years before when a dying city and a brave choice had cost him everything. She'd given his life back to him. The cost would _always _be worth it.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes to discover her face was turned away from him and his forehead pressed against her temple. She didn't want to look at him. What did she think? That giving him her body would somehow make him forgive her?

He froze. The water cascaded down her front. She still wore the white t-shirt she'd been gardening in. Her areolas made impressions against the cloth. She was atop him again crying that first night she'd tried to reclaim herself. She was here, in this shower, trying to reclaim _him. _He loved her so much that it was impossible to understand. He wanted to hold her and love her and watch her while she came and cried for it.

He kept picturing her splattered on the balcony where he'd left Ada Wong.

He was punishing her for being exactly who she was - the woman who took a monster with her as she fell to her death. The woman who died to save the man she loved. It was time to stop punishing her for being Jill Valentine.

He closed his eyes and slowed his rhythm and nuzzled her mouth back to him. He kissed her and her hands eased their death grip on his back and cupped instead. She met his thrusting eagerly. She slid one leg down and let him lift the other to get deeper.

He felt the moment she just stopped fighting it. Her mouth opened on a soft whine and his tongue swept in. His right hand played with her body as hers dropped to cup around his ass. It was just a matter of time after that.

Sex was sometimes as easy as just one, two, three.

She clenched, she came, and he followed, filling the condom with a groan. They lingered for just a moment in the water. He lowered her leg and slid out of her. She crossed her arms over the wet white shirt and whispered, "...thanks."

It was almost painful in the shower as he answered, "...sure. Anytime."

He stepped out. She stayed in.

The pain stayed with them both.

He wasn't sure it was better...but it was something.


	40. No Hope Part 4: Chap2

**No Hope Left**

* * *

**Part Four:**

**-Post Mortem-**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Full Circle**

* * *

**Spring 2017**

* * *

It was tense as hell for about a week. They walked around as if the other one might spontaneously combust at any moment. She kept her distance, he kept his, and they occupied different rooms with the vigilance of watchdogs waiting for an attack.

It got easier when they both finally stopped acting like the other might run for the hills or freak out.

He stopped avoiding her when she came around and he was with Kit. He let her sit on the floor while they played. Jill didn't play. She was trying. He knew she was trying. She wasn't maternal by nature, so having a kid was something that required her to work at it. She loved Kit, he could see that all over her, but she had to work to understand his needs.

He knew, even before her trauma, she'd have never been the type to have a child without it being an accident. Curious, he asked her one night, "...would you have kept him without me?"

She said nothing. He saw the hesitance and assured her, "...it's ok. I think I always knew the answer."

Jill looked broken and sad as she confessed, "...I _wanted _him...I just-I _couldn't..._not without you. I'm s-"

He shook his head and told her, "No reason for the sorry, Jill. No reason. I understand. I knew...even then we both knew it. I know who you are."

She lit with some kind of hope that scared him a little as she urged, "...you do. You know me. You're the only one who does, Leon...you have to forgive me."

He said nothing.

She laid a hand on his wrist and urged harder, "...please?"

He left her to finish the dishes alone.

It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. She had hope for the first real time in months. She went to bed and slept peacefully.

One night she sat beside him on the couch while he was watching television. He felt her inch across the cushions until their legs brushed on the side. He didn't move away. He let her align her body to his side.

Her breath caught. It felt a little scary to hope so hard. She watched him work in the yard one day and get sweaty mowing the grass. Her heart throbbed with want of him. She thought maybe it was time to test their limits.

It was so tense that day that Leon started to suspect something was brewing. She barely spoke. She stared at him and then away, flushing. He wanted to ask, but refused to be the first to break the silence.

He wasn't sure what it was that made her break first.

They had dinner and he went to his room to work on a report. He eight pages into a ten-page summary of a failed raid on a compound in Syria when the door to his room opened. He lifted his eyes over his glasses at her and asked, "You want something? Kit ok?"

Jill came into his room and closed the door.

She leaned on the door and whispered, "...I need you to-I need you to touch me."

He felt like someone punched him in the stomach. He said nothing. She cleared her throat and went on, "You can-it doesn't...you can pretend I'm Ada...if that helps. I just...I need to feel it."

He hated himself.

It was the first time he'd done so.

This was what he'd done to her. He'd driven her to a place where she felt like she had to beg him to fuck her and allow him to pretend she was the bitch who'd broken them apart. Just like the first time she'd touched him offered him the ability to think of someone else, she was here again, all but allowing him the freedom to treat her as a vessel for his seed.

He hated himself for it.

Gruffly, he shook his head. Jill, pale, pleaded, "Please? I know it's pathetic...I just-I'm lonely." Her voice broke and broke something in him to hear it, "I'm so lonely, Leon. Just once...just this one time...I won't ask again. Please?"

Jesus.

He shook his head again and finally told her, "I'm not-shit...I'm not saying no, Jill. I'm saying I don't want to picture anyone else. I don't-you don't have to do this. Not ever. I just-"

He gave up.

He was afraid he'd swallow his tongue and profess love like an idiot if he kept going.

So he simply...nodded. Like he'd done that first time. Like he'd done every time since...he just said yes to what she wanted, to what she needed, to what she'd offered. He nodded and Jill did too.

His alarm bells tolled until she reached for her sleeping shorts and tugged them down her legs. Her panties joined them as she crossed the room. She politely picked up all his papers and set them on his desk. He reached up to take off his glasses and she shook her head no.

Her hands unzipped him. They tugged down the zipper and eased them down his legs. He helped by lifting his legs as she tossed the denim to the floor. His mouth was dry like that first time as she climbed back on the bed and straddled him.

He was already shirtless so her hands smoothed over his chest and made goosebumps pop on his skin. She finally spoke, voice a little shaky, "...it doesn't have to mean anything."

She waited. He nodded. She reached under her and found his dick already up and ready. Her face flushed as she told him, "...you might hate me...but your dick doesn't."

Gruffly, he answered, "I don't hate you, Jill."

She tilted her head and whispered, "No? Then stop fucking other women."

Shit. He could confess that he hadn't, that he didn't want to, that he wasn't made to fuck anyone but her...but he didn't.

His stomach tightened with need. He slid his hands up the front of her thighs and over her hips under the shirt. She shivered, eyes dilating as he returned, "...done."

Jill whispered, eyes bright with emotion, "...I'll be gentle."

Jesus. This is how it was now. She thought he was wounded or something. She was treating him like she was...what? Using him? He told her, "...I don't want that either. What do you want from me, Jill?"

She shook her head and confessed, "...I want to be what you want. You want me to color my hair red like Claire for you?"

Fuck.

_He hated himself._

Gruffly, he commanded, "...no. Ever. You hear me? Just be you...just be you, Jill...and just be...true."

Great. Now he was rhyming bad poetry. This is what she did to him. She made him yearn for her. She made him a poet without knowing it. She made him a mess. He wasn't sure what he'd been without her.

Leon's hand slid up her back and brought her forward. She went easily curling against his front to kiss him. Her hands kept on stroking, sliding his dick in her palms until he was throbbing and sticky with pre-cum. When they broke for air, he reached for the nightstand.

She shifted to let him slip the condom on before she angled him at her slick center and swallowed his dick into her waiting body.

She slapped his face when he surged. His hand came down on her butt. They both moaned in pleasure.

It was the first time he was ever grateful for the dysfunctional mess that was a woman.

* * *

It was easy after that.

They fell into a rhythm of work and family life.

They traded parenting responsibilities with ease. He was always there when she couldn't be, and she was never late for anything. They doubled up on doctors' appointments and play dates. They shopped and took care of the garden. They did dishes and laundry and watched television.

They put the baby and the cat to bed. She sat on the floor at his feet in the living room to watch television. He always pulled her up beside him without a word.

They fucked in the dark with Jill on top in her shirt. She held his hands against the headboard. She rode him. He let her. They never ever opened their eyes at the same time.

Leon started training new recruits. He brought Jill in to lecture and coordinate. They worked well together without a single hiccup.

Wherever she started the night, she always woke with him beside her. She didn't know anymore who was climbing into whose bed. It didn't matter. They didn't wake up alone.

He played for her. She listened. They never said a word about it. Their son was soft and cute and loving. They went to the zoo and the park and the carnival when it was in town.

Moira snuck away with Kit to buy him a corndog.

When she was gone, they stood in awkward silence before he hooked a hand into the belt of her skirt and tugged. They made out like horny teenagers behind the Tunnel of Love entrance. It wasn't lost on either of them.

She went home without any panties on.

In the car, he put his hand on the inside of her knee. If he'd thrown her over his lap to spank her pink again, it wouldn't have meant more.

During the warm night, she felt him against her back. He lifted her leg in the dark and simply sank inside of her. Jesus, she thought wildly, they'd become pros at fucking in the shadows. He could find her body like a homing beacon on a moonless night. When she cried out softly, his hand over her mouth kept her quiet since the room door was open and their son was down the hall sleeping his crib.

It was some level of trust that allowed him to hold her down while he fucked her. When she struggled a little like she'd roll over, he tested the limits of it. He caught her hands to pin them behind her back, he gently held her throat in his other hand to hold her face to him and kiss her. She submitted, wholly, without resisting.

He rolled her to the bed beneath him on her face and used her. He wasn't gentle. It was rough and hard, somehow quiet and punctuated by the wet sounds of surrender from her body, and her desperate gasps. He wondered if she knew what it meant to feel her completely put herself at his disposal. She trusted him. She'd come from a woman who wanted to kill herself to a woman who wanted to die in his arms.

It was incredible.

He knew why he couldn't let her go. She was so completely, entirely, and utterly his. He'd mounted her from behind and used her mercilessly and she simply opened, quivering in his grasp, and whimpering with capitulation. When she tightened in release, he rolled her to her back to pin her arms over her head and finish.

The condom stopped him from claiming her completely, but his hands caught hers and blended. They both swallowed their sounds of release with wet tongues. When it was over, he rolled away.

Jill lay in the dark, listening to him in the bathroom. She touched between her legs and shivered. She was still swollen and wet from him. The light from the bathroom spilled over her as he exited and she rolled to her side away from his gaze.

They slept facing away from each other that night.

* * *

Sex was their bond. It had once been the thing that drove them apart, but it was what bonded them now. Always at night, always desperate, like they were starving for the other person -it was sometimes the thing that kept her on the edge of her seat at dinner.

She'd crawl on the bed like a dog sometimes and wait for him. He'd flip her to her back and grunt with some kind of anger. She whispered, "You don't have to look at me."

And he snapped, "Shut up, Jill...and let me see you."

She was ok with it in the moonlight. She let him see everything but her scars. She hated the scars. She never slept naked. He never did either. They were careful to keep that one barrier between them.

Kit kept them on their toes. He grew too fast and learned too quickly. She joked, "...he's smart like his dad."

Kit made a sound like pfffft and babbled, "Dada...pew." He waved a hand like Leon was stinky and giggled.

Leon mused, "And a smart ass like his mama."

It was the first time he'd really tried out a joke on her in so long. She stiffened, felt her world melt for him, and returned, "...his dad likes a good ass licking though...from what I hear."

Leon chuckled and returned, "...you got us confused, Valentine...just sayin.."

He walked into the kitchen and made her heart soar. It was slow, but he was coming around. She'd earn him back. She was determined.

* * *

He was careful to sleep in his own room most nights. Her bed was where they fucked, his was where they slept. One night, she drank a little too much and went to sleep in his room.

She woke up with him behind her. He didn't hold her. He was just there. She rolled over and touched his mouth, missing him. It was hard to miss someone when they were right there, but she'd become a pro at it.

They never touched each other in the daylight.

He always came to bed with clothes on. This time he hadn't. Her belly tightened. She was simultaneously afraid and elated. Jill pressed a kiss to his sleeping mouth where he lay on his side. He murmured in his slumber and she slid a hand down under the sheets and stroked move brought him awake with a gasp. She claimed his mouth and kissed him.

When he was throbbing in her fist, she murmured, "You came to bed naked."

He never did that. She didn't ever see him drink. So he'd come to bed beside her...sober. His answer was a heavy influx of breath as Jill used both hands to work him. He finally caught her face to tilt it up for his answering kiss.

She didn't roll atop him, she let him roll her beneath him. Her thighs opened and let him in between. When angled his dick at her waiting slit, his hands caught the hem of her shirt and she halted, shaking her head.

He didn't take the no. He just tugged the shirt up. Her arms lifted and let him. Completely naked, they brushed warm bodies together as her breasts pressed to his chest and made her moan. He rubbed his dick against her wet body until he was as slick as she was.

When his hand reached for the nightstand, she told him, "...they're in your room, not mine."

Leon groaned in annoyance and started to lift off. Jill lay back on the pillows to wait for him. He volleyed his gaze over her face, but there was no judgment on her, no anger. She just looked...sad.

He gathered her hands over her head and gruffed, "What do you want, Jill?"

Urgently, desperately, she urged, "You. Just you. It's always you. I love you. I can't...I can't be me without you. I'm...trapped."

His voice shivered, "...you want free of me?"

She whimpered, "...no. _No. _Don't you get it? I'm your prisoner now...because I _want _to be. I want to be trapped with you forever, Leon. I _love _you."

It was so bad to crave that. It was so bad to want it like he did. She was so hateful to him in the beginning. She'd come full circle to a nearly mad love. He thrived on her devotion. It kept him...alive.

He wanted to feel like this forever.

He wanted to feel like this...inside of her.

He surged into her. Jill gasped in surprise, high and soft, hips lifting to take him. He seated himself inside of her, feeling oddly like he was coming home, and he felt the walls of her close around him. He leveraged himself up to watch her as they moved together.

Jill keened, "...I love you, Leon. I _love _you. Forgive me...just forgive me."

Jesus.

His heart.

He caught her right leg and lifted it until it was draped over his arm. Her left looped around his hips. They fucked together like dancers, a beautiful song they'd done so many times before, somehow the tone was different. It was filled with notes of regret and longing and betrayal.

She caught his face and he caught her throat gently as she begged, harder and higher, "...please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He just...his voice lashed out like a whip, "Shut up, Jill..._shut up..."_

She snapped her mouth closed, her eyes filled with tears, and he dropped his mouth to kiss her into silence. Jill whimpered, rising up to take him, and Leon avowed, among the sounds of their joining, "...I fucking love you too."

Maybe it wasn't a shout from the rooftops, but their love never had been anyway. It was one born out of something less storybook and more simple - a tempestuous mess of feelings in two people who'd almost given up on joy.

She clutched at him. He curled her tighter in against his groin. The dance turned wet with dewy sweat and desperation. Their eyes locked and held. She went first, bucking against his conquest of her from heart to loins. She tightened, mewling like a cat, and made his balls seize with preparation.

He laid claim to her so hard it hurt him. His body erupted in her sucking center while they watched each other. It felt warm and snug in her, like he somehow belonged there, comforting and complete. They gripped at each other as they both came down, panting and stuck to each other.

Minutes passed with him atop her and his mouth against her neck before he spoke, roughly, "...I would have eventually offered myself up as bait if you hadn't."

Jill froze and he conceded, "...I don't know how to do anything but risk myself, Jill. It's who I am...I can't promise you I won't die on you. You know that."

She nodded, holding on to his back as she answered, "I know that. I know. I can't promise you I won't do whatever it takes to protect you again. That's who I am too...you know that. I don't want to lie to you...but I love you. I will do everything I can to give you what you want here."

Softly, he inquired, "...what's that?"

"...family."

He put his face to her neck and shoulder and breathed her in. She stroked his head and whispered, "...I need you to promise me something."

Gruffly, he told her, "...anything."

"If there's a moment when you can jump out a window...remember you've got something worth living for now...and don't jump."

"...you want me to be a coward?"

"No...I want you to be mine...and Kit's...and put us first...over everybody else in the world."

They held gazes. He broke the silence by vowing, "...I'm gonna do the best I can to honor that, Jill...but I don't know if I can promise it completely and mean it."

She smiled softly, "I know that...and maybe you understand that I can't either...we're both too stubborn for our own good I think. Where does that leave us?"

He chuckled a little. He lifted his head to look at her. "Wherever we want to be. We make it work...and we just...hope."

Her eyes teared up. She bobbed her hand and cupped his face as she affirmed, "...I think hope is the only thing left."

"...and if there's no hope left?"

Leon gripped her chin and vowed, "...then we go out there and find it."

She held his eyes and remarked, "Do you really believe that?"

Her name was a misnomer, he thought with a flash of amusement, she wasn't the gooey softness of a valentine. She was a warrior. She just didn't know how to go down without a fight. Luckily for them both, she'd never been able to defeat him. He knew, what he said here mattered as much as what he'd failed to say that first night she'd touched him."...yeah, I do. Hope is everywhere, Jill...you just gotta go out a window to find it sometimes. You gotta decide if it's worth dying for."

Their son laughed in the other room and called to them. Both of their faces lit with something they'd both lost a long time ago and found somehow again in each other. When they might have died in the rain a hundred times, they'd found their way back to each other.

With their son laughing, Jill told him, "...it's the only thing that is."

Jill would always envy that wonderful optimism under such a hardened shell. She couldn't do anything but love him. He forced his way into her heart by forcing her into nothing. A man without any concern for himself, he just...couldn't stop saving her.

It didn't feel like her life at all. It felt like a story, or a dream, or a fantasy. She wasn't sure it would ever feel real, but it didn't matter. The fight was over, he'd won.

There was no hope left for it, she was the woman in love with the hero.


End file.
